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“'M 



BEATRICE WITHERSPOON AT 
THE AGE OF TWENTY. 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY 


OF 

Emma Beatrice Burton 

'/ 




Written during her first mission to the South Sea Islands, from the year 1896 
to the year 1900 

Revised and Completed in 1914 




PUBLISHED BY 

HERALD PUBLISHING HOUSE 

LAMONI, IOWA 

1915 


f/.D> 




\J 


'n>^ 6 'V 

APR -8 1992 

COPY . 









To the Dear Memory of 
My Husband 




A Loving Tribute to 
MRS. M. WALKER 

To whose urgent request the writing of this autobiography is due 
And also to 

MRS. DANIEL MACGREGOR 

To whose enthusiastic appeal I am indebted for its republication in book form 
Affectionately subscribed 


EMMA B. BURTON 


Preface 

This work appeared in Autumn Leaves eighteen years ago. 
It then embraced a lengthy childhood and continued into the 
first mission to the South Sea Islands. In 1914 it was revised, 
at which time it seemed more profitable to drop the childhood 
and also cut down much of what had been written in order 
to add more of the life among the natives. Yet I have given 
only brief sketches of our missionary life in the islands. 

At the first writing, I had little indeed to guide me except 
memory, therefore did not claim to give circumstances in the 
routine of their occurrence, but if theie were mistakes in 
regard to time, there are none in the circumstances or inci¬ 
dents. They are all true. I have kept the thought in mind 
that I must in the hereafter meet my written record, and do 
not fear to do so, for I know of no falsehood or fiction on its 
pages. True, I have not set forth all my faults, nor all the 
mistakes in life; those things are common to all, and I am 
no exception, but who would be profited by a rehearsal of 
such ? Those are the things that are to be left behind, over¬ 
come, and forgotten while we give the bright side of life 
that will cheer and encourage. 

In summing up the years of our missionary life, I find that 
it embraces twenty-six years; that is, from 1882 to 1908, 
thirteen years and six months of which time was spent south 
of the equator. E. B. B. 


^4 




BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 

CHAPTER 1 

E very life is in one sense a book, and every individual 
is in the same sense, an author. Some of these books are 
more extensively known and read than others; yet none are 
altogether hidden from other eyes. Leaves from many ap¬ 
parently obscure ones have floated out into the world, some 
bearing peace and consolation to the weary and disheartened 
—a sweet, restful peace. 

Some in their high-wrought aims, lead the thoughts to 
dwell, at least for a time, on the grandeur of the creations of 
God, causing the human to assimilate more nearly with the 
divine nature, and thus making purer and better all who come 
in contact with them. 

Some of these living books are strictly religious; some are 
partly religious, and partly a novel, but withal true; while 
others are nearly all fictions and more or less false. Others 
again have so much that is evil mixed with the good that it is 
dangerous to read them; and yet the world does read them 
more or less every day, and the impress is left for weal or 
for woe. 

Most persons would prefer reading an interesting book 
rather than a dull, prosy one; so why not fill up our pages 
with interesting items ? It may not be in the power of every¬ 
one to stamp great deeds or heroic acts thereon, but it is in 
his power to record words and acts of kindness and love that 
will banish sorrow from some weary heart, and bring sun¬ 
shine in its place. And if it be that one’s life must be passed 
almost entirely within the confines of one’s own home circle, 
let that be his world in which to do good. Who has greater 
claim on one’s time, love, care and attention than one’s own? 
And who will appreciate it more? Surely, of all the pages 
of our life book, none are so interesting as those whereon are 
written the little acts of mother love that made children 
happy and home attractive; where we have helped our little 
ones to bear their little burdens in life, or to conquer their 
faults. 

How very few live their lives! We go on from day to day 
with a sort of hand to hand battle with the duties and cares 
of this life, trying to clear them out of our way, so that we 



10 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


can have time to enjoy life, seldom heeding the golden op¬ 
portunities that are all around us, and just passing away, and 
they are opportunities that we would give much to recall 
after it is too late. We are looking into the future for a time 
that may never come,'forgetting that it is the present with 
which we have to do, and that all the future glory in this 
world and the world to come, depends on present acts. . 

I propose to reproduce a few pages from the life book of 
one whose earth record dates from May 20, 1844, that sad 
year in which the Saints of God were made to weep and 
mourn. And angels, too, must have wept when they beheld 
the Lord’s anointed ones smitten and slain because of the 
testimony which they bore, the testimony that again an 
angel had come from the courts of glory to the earth with 
the tidings that the gospel of Christ was again to be preached 
on the earth in its fullness. But men in their blind zeal rose 
up against those who proclaim this message, and smote and 
slew many, while yet others were driven and scattered. Was 
it the lingering knowledge of that tragic event that caused 
the newly-arrived spirit—with its tiny body—such dire lamen¬ 
tations as it entered upon its earth life? Or was it sorrow 
because of leaving the bright mansion above, the Father’s 
house, to take up its abode in this sin-polluted earth, to en¬ 
counter and perhaps be overcome by the powers of evil? For 
it is a contest that may well give sorrow to any who possess 
less than a divine nature. 

Whatever the cause, this much is true, that the child as 
it now was, mourned and would not be comforted. At length 
its tiny strength was exhausted and she fell asleep and was 
carried to her mother. 

The first sleep did not end the crying, but seemed rather 
to have given strength for a harder one on waking; so fre¬ 
quent were these prolonged cries that she won the name of 
being a very cross baby. But as the months slipped by she 
became better natured. One beautiful afternoon in July, the 
three older children obtained permission to spend the after¬ 
noon with their cousins who lived a short distance away. 
Consequently the house was very quiet. After setting her 
house in order, Mrs. Davison took her sewing and sat down 
by the cradle. She thought her baby looked unusually sweet 
as she slept. She had more than once remarked that the 
little face was her redeeming quality. Had her looks been 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


11 


as disagreeable as her acts, she could not have had so much 
patience with her. Yet at this time the long-drawn sobbing 
breaths that occasionally escaped the little sleeper, made the 
mother feel almost sad. 

“Poor little thing!” murmured the mother. “She seems to 
have a world of sorrow. I wonder what her life will be.” 

As she gazed upon her babe, she recalled the earnest de¬ 
sire she had felt, and the prayer she had offered up to God 
while the child was yet unborn, that it might be the instru¬ 
ment in his hands, to do a good work, to convert souls to 
Christ, even to proclaim the message of salvation to the 
heathen in foreign lands. And with a tinge of sadness, she 
recalled her disappointment on learning that it was not a 
“man child” that was given her. And her prayer—what 
had become of that? Did the Lord not heed it? If he did 
not, whence came that comforting influence that pervaded 
her very soul, which she had accepted as evidence that her 
prayer was heard and recorded above? And that same in¬ 
fluence had scattered the dark and heavy clouds and had 
helped her to bear more bravely her trying situation. 
Whence indeed came that influence if not from God? 

The clouds of doubt began to lift, and the thought came 
to her that all was not lost; there was a vast field of useful¬ 
ness even for a woman. A missionary’s wife could do much 
good, and perhaps could labor as acceptably for the Master 
as the missionary himself, though she may not achieve so 
great a work. Already there were calls for more women in 
the far-off Indies. For a moment the future opened to her 
view; a light flooded her soul; the world seemed to be all 
astir. A terrible conflict was going on,—a grand, a glorious 
conflict. The powers of God were arrayed against the powers 
of darkness that had held sway for so many centuries. The 
gospel message was being proclaimed to every nation; a 
message that caused the world to tremble. Men and women 
were laboring in the glorious cause; a bright light had shown 
into the world’s darkness. 

Ah, yes; all unknown to her the angel had flown in the 
midst of heaven with the everlasting gospel, and it had been 
restored in its fullness “in the midst of the earth,” and 
women should go forth with their husbands in bearing that 
message to the inhabitants of the earth. 

She saw and her heart rejoiced, though she comprehended 


12 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


not; but kneeling beside the cradle, she dedicated her child 
to the Lord, praying earnestly that she might as a mission¬ 
ary’s wife be instrumental in leading souls to Christ, that 
she might be one of the vast number in that mighty conflict. 

She arose from her'knees, feeling comforted, satisfled more 
than before that the Lord had accepted her offering and 
would in his own time bring about her desire. 

(Before that mother departed this life, the dear Lord per¬ 
mitted her to see that he had not forgotten her prayer.) 

I have learned that I was named by my Uncle Robert, 
father’s brother, and the name was Beatrice Witherspoon. 

“Not a very pretty name,” said my uncle, “but it is for a 
pretty little girl, the daughter of a rich merchant in New 
York, with whom I have been trading for years, and who 
knows but what she may get a fortune some day for her 
name?” 

“Beatrice Witherspoon!” repeated my mother, “sakes alive! 
I can never call her by either of those names; you must 
think of something easier spoken.” 

“No,” replied Captain Robert, “if I name her at all that 
shall be the name.” 

“Well, I will wait till her father comes home, and see what 
he says about it. Her Grandmother Holmes thinks I ought 
to call her Hasseltine, for Mrs. Judson.” 

It so happened that father liked the name. He to, was ac¬ 
quainted with the little miss whom he had often seen with her 
father and he respected Mr. Witherspoon very highly, so it 
was decided that Beatrice Witherspoon should be the name. 

My mother thought that both of these names were too 
long for everyday use, so she added “Emma,” as she said, to 
call her by. How strange, that by chance on her part that 
she should have selected the name of one of the noblest 
women of her day, she who was the wife of the Prophet of 
the most high God, one who possessed a faith like unto the 
notable women in days of old! 

Is there anything in a name? If so, I was favored. 

It is not my purpose in this sketch to dwell on the child¬ 
hood of my life. When I was near seven years old my 
father concluded to abandon the sea and try farming. He 
had secured a farm in the lower part of Cornwallis, a thinly 
settled place bearing the French name of Pereaux, on the 
western side of the Basin of Minas, with a broad strip of 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


13 


that great basin in view from the house. To this place he 
moved his family in the early spring of 1851. The place was 
not at all like the village of Hantsport, and where nearly 
everyone were more or less related to each other; nor was 
this big, unfinished house like the well-finished cottage that 
they left. But there was more room both indoors and out. 
Although improvements on the farm were lacking, the loca¬ 
tion was really pretty, situated as it was on the footlands of 
a long range of mountains, commencing at Cape Blomiden on 
the east, and stretching away to the west so far as the eye 
could reach. It arose abruptly on the side towards Pereaux 
Valley, and the most even and beautifully wooded mountain I 
have ever seen, with no spot of unwooded land to be seen on 
the whole long side. There were also a few acres of thick 
woods at the immediate base, where trees of almost all varie¬ 
ties grew, and in the autumn, when the leaves put on their 
gorgeous colors, it was beautiful to look upon, and the view 
of the broad, placid waters (when the tide was in) was a 
source of comfort and company to the homesick mother to 
see the shipping of all kinds that passed to and from the 
Avon River that led up to Hantsport and Winsdor, and that, 
too, near enough to be recognized. 

We children enjoyed the whole, especially the upstairs, 
with its smooth, white pine floor, and no partitions, and the 
big barn with its broad, board floor, where great loads of 
hay were driven in through the wide-open doors to be un¬ 
loaded. I was the most robust of the girls—two older and 
two younger than I—at the time of our moving, and in a 
year or two was about the right age to do light chores about 
the farm. My brother George, the oldest of the family, 
was afflicted with sore eyes so that he could not be exposed 
to the sun and wind; and as I grew I had to take his place 
in many things. I liked the out-of-doors work and the out- 
of-doors play. I thought it decidedly preferable to be dressed 
light and cool, and “hie me away to rake and turn the new- 
mown hay,” to being in the stuffy, warm kitchen. I learned 
to drive the old farm horse without lines, to make loads of 
hay, and also to mow it away in the barn, to cut seed pota¬ 
toes, to drive oxen, and withal become rather tomboyish. 
Then in winter time we three girls occasionally had the 
pleasure of going to the woods with father on the ox sled 
and seeing him tap the maple trees. We would drink the 


14 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


sweet sap, make birch bark troughs to hold the sap, and 
gather quantities of birch bark to take home, and have a 
good time in general wading about in the deep snow. 

.There were no free schools at that time in our land, so 
what schooling I got was mostly in winter. 

When about fourteen years old. Father gave the farm out 
on the shares and went to sea again, after a long siege of 
rheumatism. I had been at school during the winter, but 
when the summer term opened it was with a young lady 
teacher and mostly juvenile scholars. A question arose as 
to whether I should remain in school or not. The decision 
was largely assisted by the visit of one Mr. Benjamin Eaton 
who had been persuaded by his wife to come to the house 
and solicit my help in his household, and was very urgent in 
his request, assuring mother that I should be treated as their 
own daughter, and that hard work should not be put upon 
me, also that I should have the same Sunday school privileges 
as their own children. 

So it was deemed wise to give some of the younger mem¬ 
bers of the family the benefit of the summer subscription, 
and I went with Mr. Eaton. Both Mr. Eaton and his wife 
were leading Christian people and members of the Baptist 
Church. I was not naturally a lover of study, and much 
preferred going to work than to be shut up in the stuffy 
schoolhouse all the long days of summer, so the change was 
very agreeable to me. Farther than that, to be able to earn 
enough to clothe myself was an item to be considered just 
then, for father’s rheumatism would claim his entire atten¬ 
tion for months at a time, consequently fortune sometimes 
frowned upon us. 

I was pretty well acquainted in Conning, where Mr. Eaton 
then lived, and enjoyed myself well. Mrs. Eaton was a model 
housekeeper in every respect, though a delicate lady, and 
could stand but very little work. Mr. Eaton ran a prosper¬ 
ous blacksmith business and usually had two or more hired 
men in the shop. Then there was the family of five children, 
from twelve to two years. These, with myself and frequently 
others who came and went made a large family. But with 
her help in the busiest times of the day, and her systematic 
way of working and planning the work for me, it was done 
without any trouble and what is more, there never seemed 
to be any work about the house, except on washing and iron- 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


15 


ing days. I never saw a room in disorder while I was there. 

Late in the autumn, Mr. Eaton and family removed to a 
small village three or four miles distant, known as Sheffields 
Mills. There were nearly as many mills and workshops in 
the village as dwelling houses. I accompanied them to this 
place, and remained with them a length of time. All were 
strangers to me in the village except Mrs. Eaton’s two sis¬ 
ters. My brother George was there still working at his 
trade, so I had an escort, and some one to introduce me. 

Singing school opened a night or two previous to our 
coming. I immediately connected myself with it and soon 
became acquainted with the young people of the village. 
The school was large and very interesting. We had a splen¬ 
did singing master, so the winter passed very pleasantly, 
as did the succeeding seasons. The big mill pond afforded 
the young people keen enjoyment, and innocent amusement, 
both in summer and winter. In the latter season it was a 
skating resort, and there was also an ice boat upon it for 
those who could not skate or preferred sitting still. 

In summer, two good-sized rowboats, equipped with oars, 
rested upon its glassy surface, and often when the day’s 
work was done, both for those indoors and out, and the sun 
had sunk below the horizon, a half dozen or more of young 
people would step into those boats and enjoy the twilight 
hours in rowing leisurely over the lake, often lingering till 
the silvery beams of the moon rested upon the quiet waters, 
while frequently the voice of song rang out on the evening 
air, echoing back over the water in harmonious tones of 
melody, enjoyed by the matrons sitting by their open doors 
or windows. 

This was a retired country village, and it was seldom 
indeed that any but its own inhabitants were within hearing 
at those hours, and the voice of song did not seem rude, or 
improper to them. At other times, when the moon was in 
her brightness, a little company of those young folks whose 
aim was innocent enjoyment, would go for a quiet walk, 
and occasionally by way of a treat, several teams would be 
gotten up, and all would start off for a drive, and a sleighing 
party if in the winter time. There were parties of course— 
outside the village—where dancing was indulged in, but I 
attended very few of them, and never danced. I had been 
baptized when I was eleven years old, and though I often 


16 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


felt that I was only a church member by name, and had lost 
my interest in trying to be a Christian, I had too much 
respect for the church and the wishes of my parents who 
were greatly opposed to dancing, to take part in it. 

It was hard for me to resist this temptation, for the sound 
of dancing music set every fiber of my body in motion; it 
would ring in my ears for days, and when there was no one 
to observe, I would go about my work in dancing measures. 
But the strength of this underlying principle of duty, as well 
as respect for the church, that my parents had, with much 
care and anxiety, and, doubtless many prayers that I knew 
nothing of, instilled into my mind, kept me while in the 
slippery paths of youth, from doing what I knew to be wrong 
and would grieve them, though I sometimes wickedly wished 
that I was not a church member so I could dance. But those 
wishes were kept to myself and no one knew but what I re¬ 
fused because I did not want to dance. My excuse usually 
was, “I never danced in my life, and don’t know how.” 

“Then you can not learn younger,” one would reply. 

“But I don’t intend to learn.” 

How glad I am now that I steadfastly refused! Glad that 
I was loyal to duty and principle even against my inclination! 
I can see, too, that it was good for me that I was a church 
member, even though I entered under religious excitement, 
for it kept me from the pursuits of worldly pleasures that 
perhaps would not be a joy to look back upon, and I might 
have wandered farther from Christ without this “school¬ 
master,” and it is far easier to remain out of a wrong path 
than to retrace one’s steps after once having entered. 

Some may say they can enjoy the dance without going to 
excess, or without being injured in health or mind. It may 
possibly be true, but it is the exception, and not the rule. 
Such persons do not know how many may have been hurt, or 
hindered in better things by their influence, and if they were 
church members, how many might have been helped had 
their influence been cast on the other side. 

It is a joy to me now, in looking over my youthful career 
to know that all the amusements in which I took part, were 
innocent and healthful—nothing that caused a sting of re¬ 
morse. 

None of my girl friends of the village were religiously 
inclined, though all were of pious parents. All were church- 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


17 


goers, and respected religion because of their parents. There 
were no Saturday afternoon church meetings where I used to 
have to take part, or refuse, like at home in Pereaux, for each 
one was called upon to do so, therefore my pleasure bark 
glided smoothly along through the coming and going seasons. 

I remained in Mr. Eaton’s family as ^‘maid of all work,” 
but treated as a daughter, till the fall of 1859—with the 
exception of one winter home at school—and now again I 
received word from my parents that a new schoolmaster was 
expected, and a good school anticipated for the coming winter, 
and they wished me to come home and attend. 

I can not say that I relished the idea, though I knew that 
I sadly needed more schooling. The love for the amusement 
of young and pleasure-loving company had developed within 
me. Working away from home did not debar me at all from 
mingling with the best families, and though scarcely sixteen, 
was at the zenith of innocent society, a leader; urged on by 
all my associates. I did not like the thought of leaving that 
goodly number of young people, and shutting myself up in a 
schoolroom where young people were few. Besides, there 
had come to my mind a sort of foreknowledge or presentiment 
of the future. I did not know just when it came or what 
caused it, but a feeling that I did not then welcome, had 
asserted itself, and the more I said, “I will not! there now!” 
the more I felt bound by it. The presentiment was, that dur¬ 
ing the winter I was to meet the man who was to be my 
future husband, and that it was some one whom I had not 
yet seen. When I heard of the new teacher that had been en¬ 
gaged and who had never been in the place before, I thought 
surely it was my fate, and I had no desire to meet him. I 
had pictured him out in my imagination as a thorough vege¬ 
table man; a cabbage shaped head, with carrot colored hair, 
garlic eyes, and reddish nose, with a wisp of bristly mustache. 
After viewing the mental picture I said most emphatically, 
“Mr. Schoolmaster, I am not going to have you!” Still it 
was with a little flutter of anxiety and assumed defiance that 
I prepared to meet him when I learned that he was in the 
sitting room. My presentiment and my rebellion against fate 
embodied in that coming young schoolmaster had been duly 
confided to Sophia, my older sister, and what a laugh we 
had when we got by ourselves after his first visit! He was 
not of the vegetable type at all. His thick, black hair was 


18 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


combed right down over his ears and came nearly down to 
the collar of his coat. His heavy beard grew nearly up to 
his eyes and so profuse that one scarcely knew where the 
hair stopped and the beard commenced. A razor was not 
used. He was a bachelor, about forty years old, a thorough 
pedagogue, and of a mild intellect. Some said he had missed 
his calling and should have been a clock doctor. 

However, I saw that my fears were all groundless, so set 
my mind at rest about any stranger coming to claim me, and 
went to school like a good girl, finding pleasure in renewing 
friendship with many of my old schoolmates, especially 
Priscilla, (whose real name was Roxanna) and Esther. 

The Christmas holidays had passed, and school had com¬ 
menced again, when one night during the first week in Janu¬ 
ary while the inhabitants of Pereaux slept, the incoming tide 
bore on its bosom quite a large-sized vessel of brigantine rig, 
which was steering for Pereaux River. The night was moon¬ 
less, and the captain was not acquainted with the river, nor 
with the lay of the land, only having seen it from a distance. 
He thought to have reached his destination in time to sail 
up the river, or creek, in the daylight; then he could see 
the wharf and pilot his ship to it; but not making as good 
time as he had expected, was obliged to anchor and wait for 
the night tide, which happened to be the highest tide in the 
month. By the hand lead, he managed to keep in the chan¬ 
nel, there being shallow flats on each side, but the treacher¬ 
ous tide bore them past the point around where the wharf 
was. Oh, yes, and past the other points still farther up the 
river. 

The tide was at its highest that night which made the 
river appear broader than the captain anticipated but, think¬ 
ing he must be about opposite the wharf, he changed his 
course and stood in towards it as he supposed. He had only 
sailed in that direction a few minutes when the keel of the 
vessel grated on the bottom and the ship came to a full 
stop. How the water fairies must have laughed when they 
had pushed their burden upon that bank and in their wild 
sport had gathered up what ice was handy and almost made 
a wall around her. Then they rushed down to where the 
tide hides when it goes out and invited all the ice cakes that 
could crowd in the river to come up the next tide and help 
keep the vessel away from the wharf. 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


19 


When the daylight broke over the quiet neighborhood and 
the dwellers therein had crept out of their warm beds and 
scratched the frost from the window panes sufficiently to 
look out, their eyes were greeted with a novel sight. A 
larger vessel than had ever before sailed up the creek that 
far was high and dry on the bank close to the upper ship¬ 
yard. 

“Whose vessel can it be?” asked father, as they all “gazed 
and wondered.” “It is somebody who is not acquainted with 
the river to get away up there.” Then we discerned two tall 
men walking around the bows of the vessel. They seemed 
to be looking first at their ship, then at the ice. They would 
take a few steps, then stand and look again as if there was no 
help for it, and we could imagine the surprise and annoyance 
the captain must have felt when daylight revealed the situa- 
tion. 

“I believe,” said father, “that tallest one is Captain John 
Will Holmes. It walks very much like him.” 

“If it is,” said mother, “he will be over here in the course 
of the forenoon. So we will hurry and get the work done 
up.” As for me I took very little interest in the affair. I 
had been on the sick list for the past three days, spending 
most of my time on the couch in the sitting room. This 
morning I had come downstairs while the family were eating 
breakfast and discussing the probability of the strange ves¬ 
sel being Uncle John Will’s. After getting what breakfast 
I wanted I went into the sitting room where I sat moping in a 
corner nearest the fireplace in which father was endeavoring 
to keep a cheery fire. I had taken no pains whatever with 
my toilet that morning. 

I knew the room did not look as tidy as it should, but I 
did not feel ambition enough to go to work and set it in order. 
I knew one of the other girls would when the breakfast dishes 
were washed. 

Presently mother came bustling into the room, setting it 
in order as she passed along, saying Uncle John Will was 
outside talking with father and a gentlemanly-looking young 
man was with him whom she knew to be a stranger, for she 
saw Uncle John introducing him to father. “You don’t look 
very presentable,” she said, looking at me. 

I had no more than made answer that I looked as well as 
I felt, when the door opened and father brought them into 


20 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


the room. I was truly glad to see Uncle John Will, the same 
dear uncle that used to bring us presents from sea when we 
lived in our pretty little home in Hantsport, but as to the 
young man whom he introduced as “Mr. Burton,” his mate, 
I took very little notice of him (or tried to). Of course. 
Uncle John was welcome any time, but I wondered why that 
stranger came with him so early in the morning, and I was 
a little annoyed because he came. Still I mentally argued 
that I did not care if I was a little untidy, that if people 
made calls in winter mornings as soon as folks were out of 
bed they must expect to take them as they found them, and 
I felt tart enough not to take any pains to conceal that fact. 

Uncle John's' visit was a rare treat. We had not seen 
him for a very long time, nor had we heard from our native 
village for some time either, so there was so much for him 
and father and mother to talk of, that the quiet-looking 
young man sitting at the far side of the room was almost 
overlooked. I did not take part in the conversation. Once 
I ventured a glance at the occupant of the other side of the 
room and met him squarely in the eyes, which cast just the 
ghost of a discouraged expression over his face, as though 
I knew he was making a mental calculation as to what ex¬ 
tent my appearance might be improved if those two large 
frowzy curls were divided into four or five smooth ones and 
my dress were close fitting. I assumed a little more of a 
“don't care'' look and resolved to avoid another encounter. 
Presently father said, “I'll leave you, captain, to talk with 
the women folks a little while. I have not got all my live 
stock outside fed yet,” and he went out. 

In a little while mother was called to the kitchen. Then 
Uncle John Will (v/e always called him by Wh names) 
turned his attention to me, and I saw by the twinkling of 
his eye that he was going to keep up his old game of pla¬ 
guing me. I stood my ground, giving him as good as he sent 
as far as I was able, which provoked a smile or two from 
the young man in long rubber boots whose work-a-day clothes 
looked neat and tidy as if he had dressed for a party, but 
whose presence I was endeavoring to ignore. 

They did not stay more than an hour or so, for the captain 
was anxious to get back to his ship to see if anything could 
be done about getting her in the stream next tide. 


'Mother's half brother. 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


21 


After they had taken leave, father said, “I wonder if that 
young man was the Reverend William Burton’s son?” 

“Was it ‘Burton’? ” asked mother, in a tone of surprise. 
“I thought he said ‘Burden’ (Borden). Why, of course, it 
must have been, if his name was Burton; for there is no 
other family of that name that I know of. If I had known 
who he was, I should have made some talk with him.” 

“You will probably see him again,” said father, “for they 
will not get off of there this tide, though they may to-night.” 

The incoming tide brought in a solid field of ice. Besides 
that, the water did not come up so far as the night before. 
Was it because so much of it had consolidated into the great 
masses of ice cakes that came floating in? The captain 
looked at them in dismay, knowing his ship must remain 
where she vras for several days; which was almost exasperat¬ 
ing to Uncle John Will’s consciousness of his laudable sea¬ 
manship. There is no adversity so hard for a sea captain 
to bear in his line of business as to do nothing, whether in a 
dead calm or hard aground; so to help while away the time 
he spent his evenings in the hospitable farmhouse on the 
little hill, which little hill was kept in place, or seemed to be, 
by a stone wall in front, and as often as he made ready to go 
thither, he invited his mate to accompany him, which invita¬ 
tion was accepted of course. Those evenings were spent very 
pleasantly. Sometimes the young man accepted an invita¬ 
tion and went with us young folks to spend the evening at a 
neighbor’s where other young folks had gathered. 

Whether at our own bright fireside or elsewhere, it made 
no difference; young folks will be young folks all the same. 

In due time the good brigantine. Alpha, was, with much 
difficulty, gotten to the wharf and safely moored, but the 
“open” spell in winter weather suddenly closed up and froze 
over. The vessel had been chartered to take a load of pota¬ 
toes to New York and as it was out of the question to move 
potatoes without freezing them, the captain discharged the 
crew and went home himself overland, leaving the mate to 
keep ship, and he was to board at our house. Were there 
ever circumstances more favorable? The young miss who 
had armed herself so vigorously in the fall against an imag¬ 
inary foe in the capacity of a schoolmaster had thrown aside 
her arms and forgotten her fears, and while in this unguarded 
state the stranger came, rallied his forces, and took the cita¬ 
del. Ere the ship was ready for sea we had plighted our troth. 


CHAPTER 2 


The Midnight Supper 


HE ICE was scarcely out of the river when the good 



1 brig sailed away, not to return for some months. When 
she did return it was June, beautiful June, so sweet and 
fresh, laden with delicious odors, flowers, leafy green trees 
and bright red berries, all gladdened by the song of birds. 
Never did the day dawn on a fairer, sweeter June morning 
than that which cast its rays over a secluded little nook on the 
outskirts of our land, yet one that was endowed with a natu¬ 
ral beauty that could not be excelled by the brush of an 
artist, nor can it be more than poorly described by my pen. 

There were the shining waters of the broad Basin of Minas, 
fringed by green flelds, level, green dyke joined by the many 
emerald acres of the famous Grand Pre, together with 
promontories, and points of land between which miniature 
rivers and creeks threaded their serpentine way like so much 
liquid silver. Over these lands were towns, villages and ham¬ 
lets, scattered in a most picturesque manner. As a back¬ 
ground to all, rose the high, wooded mountains, some near 
and green-looking, others were far away, enveloped in a hazy 
blue, altogether forming one of nature’s masterpieces. 

At early dawn, a homeward bound vessel of brigantine 
rig, had left the heaving and tossing of the great ocean and 
sailed into the smoother sea of the Bay of Fundy, rounded 
Cape Blomidon, passed the mouth of Pereaux River, and was 
heading for the Avon River, and Hantsport beach. Lightly 
and peacefully she sat upon the sparkling waters that reflected 
the deep blue of the canopy above. Her square sails rounded 
out in the morning breeze, and with the aid of the incoming 
tide she was skimming the waters at a pleasing rate—pleas¬ 
ing to those on board whose throbbing hearts were reaching 
out with eager anticipation of meeting their loved ones, wife, 
children, brothers and sisters, or sweethearts. 

With what gladness they hailed the day, feasting their 
sea-satiated eyes on the restful scenery that greeted them! 
When they left those shores the trees stretched forth their 
leafless branches, sear and brown, and the earth was covered 
with- snow; but now, what a change! Both earth and trees 
were green and beautiful, and over all brooded the hallowed 


/ 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


23 


peace of the Sabbath morning. Yet with the gladness, there 
was that inward fear, lest the breeze should die away, and 
the tide turn ere they reached their destination. But for¬ 
tune favored them beyond their expectation, it being still 
morning when they rounded the bend, and came to anchor on 
Hantsport beach. 

A captain can spring ashore as soon as his ship is at her 
moorings, but not so with the mate; he must remain until the 
sails are furled and stowed, and everything put in order about 
decks. This particular mate was my lover, and knowing that 
his visit would be short with his fiancee because of the'long 
distance he had to drive (twenty-five miles), he had kept the 
sailors busy about decks all morning getting done as much as 
could be done, before they arrived, so it was not long before 
he, too, stepped ashore and hastily made his way to the village. 
He was tall and slender, and called fine-looking. He had not 
the easy rolling gait that sailors usually have. He stood 
straight and stepped firmly. He knew where there was a 
fast horse, and light buggy to be hired at a round price, and 
made his way straight to the place. The owner of this rig 
chanced to be in his yard, and without hesitating, the young 
man stepped up to him and said, ^‘Mr. Faulkner, I want to 
hire your horse and buggy till to-morrow morning.” 

“Well,” he said slowly, “I don’t know about letting my 
team go this morning, M. Burton. There are two other 
horses in the village to hire, I think you could get one of 
them.” 

Now Mr. Faulkner knew where this young sailor man was 
going, and that he had not long to stay, and would not stand 
at a few extra dollars for the sake of having a fast horse. 
His demur was simply thrown out as bait, and the sailorman 
knew that this friend of his could not resist yellow coin. 

“I know I can; but I don’t want either of them; one is lame, 
and the other is lazy. I want yours,” and slipping a yellow 
coin in his hand double the ordinary price, he said, “Come, 
Mr. Faulkner, get that ready as soon as you can. 

That gentleman lost no time in letting the money fall into 
his pocket, and went to the bam, gave the horse a feed of 
oats, and proceeded to oil the axles, brush the horse, and put 
the harness on, while he was eating his feed, and thus we 
leave them. 

It was our custom at home for all to attend Sunday school. 


24 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


and church if it was practicable to go. My father, who was 
a sea captain in his early life, was now in his farming life 
deacon of the Baptist Church in that community, and of 
course the deacon’s family must all be at church unless some 
were sick. But none were sick on this beautiful morning. 
The church building was a mile distant, so some must needs 
walk for all could not be accommodated even in the family 
carriage. But walking was nothing unusual, and this morn¬ 
ing the air was cool and sweet. The Sunday school opened 
at 9 a. m. and I for one enjoyed the morning walk. This was 
my seventeenth summer, and though very girlish in many 
ways, I was enjoying the happy importance of being regarded 
as a young woman, and also dignity of being engaged to one 
who was called a “fine young man” by all who knew him. 
Therefore the summer was to me, like none other had been. 

Sunday school was over, and the intermission also. I had 
marched out with my class of little tots, and though the 
children had gone in with their parents, I still lingered in 
the shade of a large tree, and followed the last group as they 
entered the church for service. As I stepped inside the door, 
and was about to go up in the gallery, I saw an uncle of mine 
who was a sea captain of fifty years and more, standing with 
his back to the wall as if waiting for some one. His good- 
natured bronzed face that supported an unusually generous 
nose, was all beaming with smiles as he caught sight of and 
beckoned to me, letting me know that he wanted to speak to 
me. As the last one had passed through the door into the 
auditorium, we stepped towards each other. He said in a low 
tone, “Do not go away anywhere to dinner to-day.” 

“Why not?” 

“Well,” said he with a merry twinkle in his eye, “I saw a 
certain brigantine going up the river early this morning, 
and you might have company.” 

I felt the warm blood leap up into my face, and turned 
quickly towards the stairs saying as I glanced at him over 
my shoulder: “Oh, Uncle Whit you are only joking,” and ran 
softly up the steps and took my seat in the choir. 

This uncle always made much of me, but more so when he 
learned of my prospective marriage with a young man that he 
esteemed very highly, and was not willing that I should lose 
any of the visit that I was sure to have. 

All unknown to either uncle or me, the “company” referred 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


25 


to was already on the grounds, feeling assured that the 
deacon’s entire family would be at church. He tied his horse 
some distance above the other horses that were already there, 
so as not to be blocked in by other horses that might come 
afterwards, and waited till all had entered the church, then 
he went quietly in and took a seat just inside the door as the 
minister arose to open the meeting. He had a good view of 
the deacon’s pew at the side next the pulpit, and saw that 
most of the family were there, except the one he was look¬ 
ing for. But he would wait till after the singing for perhaps 
she was in the choir. Such were his thoughts, and he had 
not long to wait till he heard the voice that bespake its owner. 
The brief conversation at the foot of the stairs had attuned 
the voice, and it rang out full and clear. How I wished I had 
been the only soprano voice in the choir, so I could sing with 
all my might, as a sort of valve to the pleasurable excitement 
within. 

As soon as the sermon was over, the young man withdrew 
as quietly and unobserved as he had entered. As I came 
slowly down the stairs, pausing occasionally for others in 
front of me to move on, I began to calculate as to the time 1 
might expect my company, provided what Uncle Whitman 
had said was really true, and concluded on early in the after¬ 
noon. 

As I stood for a moment in the doorway and looked across 
the congregation grouped in front of the church, I saw a 
young man sitting in a very black, shiny buggy in the road 
just opposite the door. The buggy was much smaller and of 
lighter build than any in the place, and I was just about to 
wonder who it was, and who he was waiting for there in the 
road, when instantly I knew, and without speaking to anyone, 
I passed quickly through the crowd, took the proffered hand 
and sprang lightly into the buggy, took the place made for me 
on the seat, and we were off with a bound, before anyone had 
time to question. (But not so quickly but that what I had 
time to congratulate myself on having worn my most becoming 
thin blue dress made in summer style with ‘^shortcomings” 
about the neck and arms to be forgiven, the former partly 
covered by the long ringlets that danced and rippled in the 
breeze.) How pleasant that drive was! Facing the cool 
breeze from the bay added to it not a little. 

My lover was a lover of nature, also, and not having passed 


26 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


over that road before in summer time he was not insensible 
to the beauty of the landscape view that stretched away on 
either side, notwithstanding his lover-like compliments to the 
girl by his side. But that one mile was all too short, and we 
were obliged to rein in at the big gate that stood open, and 
alight at the home door. 

While the minister's son was putting away his horse, the 
deacon^s daughter busied herself getting dinner, as the 
midday meal was called in those days. It was the rule in 
our dear old home never to heat up the house by cooking on 
Sunday. Ample preparations were made on Saturday, so that 
to boil the kettle for making tea, or perhaps boil a few 
potatoes, was all that would be needed. 

When the horse was put away and the young sailor re¬ 
turned to the house, he did not accept the invitation to “walk 
into the sitting room and make himself at home,’’ but seated 
himself on father’s old sea chest which occupied his favorite 
nook in the kitchen. 

When boarding at the house the winter before, he had sat 
in the same place many a time and watched the same girl 
while she was getting a meal, much to her confusion oft- 
times, and she had wished he would go into the sitting room 
with the folks; but not so this time. I was glad he preferred 
to stay in the kitchen where we could talk together while I 
spread out the lunch. 

The dried-pumpkin pies and strawberries and cream were 
most tempting dainties to the eyes of a sailorman who had 
not seen an5d;hing but seamen’s fare for months. He fairly 
smacked his lips at the sight of the sweet, red berries, and of 
course any girl would have done just as I did: pick out 
several of the nicest ones and drop them in his mouth. But 
the enjoyment of our pleasant visit with each other was soon 
interrupted by the arrival of the well-filled family carriage. 
“Blucher” the farm horse was noted for his deliberate move¬ 
ments, but this time he seemed to have gotten over the ground 
very quickly. 

Both parents and children were very much pleased to see 
“Burton” as they all called him. Since all were in the sitting 
room together, all took part in entertaining for about two 
hours, then conversation flagged, the room was warm and 
tstuffy. Father dropped off to sleep in his chair. I could not 
invite my company into another room, for my married sister 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


27 


occupied the other part of the house, but wished for a change 
in some way. Glancing at the young sailor who was now so 
near, and yet so far, I arose and went into the kitchen, then 
the coolest room in the house. Mother was there about as 
soon as I was, and not more than a minute later my lover 
followed with three-year-old sister Ida holding his hand, and 
my two little brothers, five and seven years respectively, 
brought up the rear. When he entered the kitchen I was 
saying something about fearing there was not half straw¬ 
berries enough for supper. Turning to me, he said, “Do they 
grow near here?” 

“Yes, in the burned land just beyond the pasture.” 

“Let’s go and get some. I would like to pick strawberries 
once more; I have not seen them in the field since I was a 
boy.” 

What a happy suggestion, thought I, for it would necessi¬ 
tate a pleasant walk in the fields before we got to where the 
berries were and glancing at mother, I said in a playful way, 
“Would it be very wicked?” 

Mother smiled and said, “I don’t know what your father 
would think!” 

I knew father was very strict in the observance of the 
Lord’s Day, and upon ordinary occasions would not have 
thought of such a thing as going picking berries. But the 
eyes of my lover were pleading to go, and I said, “We will 
get off before he wakes, and then he will not know anything 
about it,” and forthwith donned my sunbonnet. Then the 
two little brothers put in their plea to go, too. 

“Can’t we, mother?” 

“No, no; they won’t want you along.” 

“Oh, yes, mother, let them come, they will help get berries 
you know.” 

Holmes J., the eldest of the two, gave a little squeak and 
a bound by way of expressing his delight, since there was 
no place for him to turn a somersault or stand on his head. 
Bert skipped up on a chair to get his tin cup that hung 
against the cupboard, and little sister Ida began to cry be¬ 
cause she had been told that it was too far for her to go. 
All these acts and words were considered to have been done 
in a quiet way, yet it was more confusion than was cus¬ 
tomary on Sunday; and just as we were ready to start, 
there stood the deacon in the doorway looking on the group 


28 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


in blank amazement. To see his daughter with a big sun- 
bonnet on, and a pitcher in her hand, and a young man by 
her side with a bowl in his hand, and the children with tin 
cups was very suggestive of the purpose they had in view. 

“Why! Are you going strawberrying on Sunday?” 

“Oh, no, father, not exactly that, but this sailorman, you 
see, has been so constantly on the ocean that he has not 
seen a strawberry field since he was a boy, and may not be 
home in strawberry season again for years, and he just 
wants to go and get a few.” 

“Oh, well, I suppose that might make a difference,” said 
father, very slowly and seriously, “but the children, are they 
going, too?” 

“Oh, yes, father, it is no more harm for them to go than 
for us,” I said. 

So we started off. How those boys did circle about us. 
To walk by our side was not close enough to express their 
gratitude. Holmes got in front of us and walked backwards 
so he could look right in our faces, and between the two they 
kept up a continuous rattle of talk. I had thought they 
would run off by themselves, but they seemed to have no 
notion of doing so, and I began to think my company was 
going to be as much monopolized here as in the house. But 
a sailor is equal to almost any occasion, and after we had 
gone a little way he said, “Bert is a smart little fellow, but 
I believe Holmes could best him in a long run. I believe 
Holmes could get to the top of that hill first.” The words 
were no sooner spoken than the boys were off for the race! 
Each tried so hard to beat that they were glad to sit down 
and rest till we came up, instead of coming back to meet us, 
as they would have done if the distance had been shorter. 
We were then more than half way. Holmes was jubilant 
because he had won the race. 

“Yes,” said Burton, “that was because it was up hill. 
But Bert can beat getting to the burned-land fence,” and 
away they went again. And Bert regained his record. This 
fence was recently made of nice new poles. My lover took 
down the top pole and let one end rest on the ground, then 
gave me his hand and I walked the pole till on a level with 
the second one, and sprang to the ground on the other side. 
There was a nice bed of berries just where we had entered, 
and all began to pick. ^ 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


29 


“Now, boys,’^ I said, “it won’t do for us all to pick in one 
place; we will pick these, and you go to the other side of the 
lot, and hunt another bed.” They obediently went, and 
presently called back saying there were a nice lot of them 
over there. 

“Very well, pick all you can, and when we get all we can 
find on this side, we will go there.” Thus the unsuspecting 
little brothers were kept at a comfortable distance. 

It was a pleasure beyond expression to the young sea¬ 
man to see those bright, red berries nestling in the tender, 
green grass, looking so clean and sweet, and tasting so de¬ 
licious. He came near forgetting that he had taken any other 
receptacle than his mouth. 

The afternoon’s outing had been one of keen enjoyment. 
The tea table was already laid when we returned. It was 
gratifying in one sense to know that the summer evenings 
were short, and the children would soon be in bed which 
would make a few less to entertain my visitor. 

At ten o’clock mother came in from another part of the 
house, and said, “Your sleeping room is ready, Mr. Burton, 
whenever you wish to retire.” 

The young man smiled, and said, “I don’t wish any sleep¬ 
ing room to-night. I have to leave at midnight.” 

“What,” said father, “no sleep at all? Why, there are 
two hours before midnight.” The young sailorman smiled 
still more deeply, saying that the time allotted for that visit 
was far too limited to waste any in sleep, and, “With your 
permission I will sit here with Emma till it is time to leave.” 

The deacon and his wife very graciously accepted the im¬ 
plied invitation; and with a merry twinkle of the eye, bade 
the young man good-night, expressing a hope that neither of 
them would be lonesome, and retired. 

When left to ourselves we soon abandoned the breath-heated 
room, for the front entry; drew our chairs together and 
sat in the open doorway, enjoying the cooler air, and the 
moonlight that shone brightly upon us. 

How quickly those two hours sped away! We were making 
very pleasant and interesting plans for the near future, 
when the clock admonished us that it was half past eleven. 
“Is it possible,” said he, “that I must leave in half an 
hour? I think I will go now and see if the horse has eaten 


30 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


his feed and put the harness on, and comie in again for a 
few minutes.” 

“Very well, I will have a lunch ready for you by the time 
you come in; I have some strawberries in reserve that have 
got to be eaten before you go.” So while he was out, I spread 
the cloth on the kitchen table, stepping about softly so as 
not to wake the sleeping ones. I arranged the table to look 
just as dainty and tempting as I could, remembering that it 
was to be the first meal by ourselves, and wishing it to be a 
reminder of what was in store later on when the table we 
would sit down to would be our own. I had no mercy on 
mother’s cream, took the top off of the largest pan of night’s 
milk for our berries, and stirred the other together to fill 
our glasses. The bread was sliced with care so as to be 
smooth and even. I discarded the print of butter that had 
been cut into, and got a whole one; then there was a plate 
of “puffy-up-cakes,” as the sailorman was wont to call 
them, and a large pumpkin pie. These with our dishes of 
strawberries and cream constituted our midnight supper. 
I had arranged the places opposite each other, and so 
placed the chairs. 

It was evident that he only expected to see a bit of a 
lunch put on the table, so when he entered that plain, but 
cozy kitchen and saw the table set for two, his handsome 
face was radiant, but the lover-like expression that fell so 
quietly from his lips may not be written here; it was only 
only intended for the one, who heard it. 

The supper was the crowning of that happy visit. Not 
because of what we ate, but the happiness enjoyed while 
eating that made the feast. We sat at the table talking 
prospective future till the clock announced the midnight 
hour; then we arose from the table and took the parting 
hand. When the good-bys were said, I stood in the back 
door and watched the young sailor drive away in the moon¬ 
light, and could not but wish that I could have accompanied 
him on that twenty-five mile drive. 

I have said before, that the summer was to me as none 
other had been, since I had not reached the age of being 
“out of my time” or “my own mistress.” And since this 
was to be my last summer as Miss Emma Davison I was re¬ 
leased from many minor obligations in regard to household 
duties, and was privileged to appropriate a large portion 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


31 


of my time to my needlework in making my trosseau, and en¬ 
joying myself generally. The little children of whom there 
once seemed to have been so many, were every year growing 
older without any more taking their place, and so the house 
was becoming more quiet; and every lady therein more at 
liberty. Ida, the youngest, was about three years old. 

It is the summer twilight hours that linger in memory 
still with all their sweetness enhanced; time having obliter¬ 
ated all that may have been otherwise, and in fancy I view 
again the scenes incident to those occasions; the house is 
set in order after the tea dishes were washed, and doors and 
windows thrown open to give it a thorough ventilating, 
while the family betake themselves to the open air. The 
three little boys with Ida seek their favorite resort for play. 
Eliza and Lucindia are perhaps enjoying a ramble in the 
pasture next the “woods,” where they often went with two 
or three of their girl friends to gather evergreens, ferns, 
moss, and wild flowers, and bring the cows home as they 
came back. George is still away from home. Tamza, the 
eldest sister, lives just across the road. She has one dear 
little girl, Cleda. Mother repairs to her kitchen garden 
where she enjoys working an hour or so at the close of day 
in weeding, and other ways making it comfortable, while 
father visited and scrutinized every tree in his thrifty little 
orchard, the work of his own hands, and he nourished them 
with tender care. 

Sophia, the sister next older than I, was away from home 
for the most part of this memorable summer, so I spent 
those hours by myself, frequently sitting in a cozy little 
bedroom upstairs that looked out towards the east, stitching 
away on some delicate piece of embroidery designed for 
bridal attire. The view from this window was varied and 
pleasant indeed. There was the broad stretch of the main 
channel where navigation was kept up, with broad waters 
beyond. There was also some wooded land near by, and a 
more thickly-wooded imountain beyond. As the twilight 
deepens and I can no longer see to ply the needle, I fold my 
work and lay it aside, to be resumed for an hour or so in 
the early morning before the family was astir—and give 
myself up to the quiet of the moment. My thoughts corres¬ 
pond with my gaze at it wanders far out over the silent 
tide, then hovers about the gloaming of the woods, then 


32 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


rests upon the great yellow moon that has come up ap¬ 
parently out of the distant waters, across which it is casting 
its broad beams of liquid brightness, ever changing, spark¬ 
ling, and shimmering like a sea of diamonds. While thus 
lost in thought, I have heard dimly the two girls come in 
the house, walk through it and go out again, and call to 
father that the cows have come. Then I hear father’s pe¬ 
culiar short, heavy step as he goes into the pantry after 
the milk pail. Presently I go downstairs. Somebody has 
gathered a mess of green peas. Tamza and her husband 
(Robert) have come over from across the street for a few 
minutes as is their wont at the twilight hours, bringing 
the little Cleda with them, and we all sit around the bucket 
of peas, shelling them out for the morrow, and enjoy a 
social chat. 

Oh, how those eventide scenes come floating back to me, 
undimmed by the intervening years. I recount the pleasant 
hours with many of the acts and words that made them 
pleasant. 

During the early part of the summer an effort was made by 
a young minister to get up^a revival, but which did not prove 
successful to any great degree, though a season of very en¬ 
joyable meetings were held in which I seldom failed to take an 
active part. I enjoyed doing so, for during the previous 
winter while at home, and with my religious schoolmate, 
Roxanna, I had more time to think, and the dear Savior 
whom I had once felt the need of, and again had neglected, 
came whispering into my thoughts, and became very precious 
to me. I felt that he was indeed my Savior and my Re¬ 
deemer. 

While thus spiritually renewing my covenant, I dedicated, 
as nearly as I knew how, my life service unto him, resolving 
that I should never let anything deter me from that pur¬ 
pose. N 

The summer had ripened into September, the month in 
which an event took place that came near bringing my life 
story to an abrupt close. My sister Sophia and I were in 
bathing one lovely afternoon, and both came near being 
drowned. I was the farthest gone, so that from fifteen to 
twenty minutes I was unconscious, but by the vigorous 
efforts, urged on by my mother who would not give me up, 
life gradually returned. I have no words to convey to the 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


33 


understanding how terrible was the sensation of strangling 
and swallowing such quantities of salt water as I was forced 
to do every time my head rose above the water while al¬ 
ternately sinking and rising. 

In the hour of need, how quickly we turn to Him in whom 
alone there is deliverance. As my head came above water 
the first time, I cried out with a loud voice, “0 God save us!” 
And did he not hear and answer? Those words were the 
means of bringing the needed help. Mother was near 
enough to hear them distinctly, and gave the alarm that 
brought help to recover us from the deep water. 

While struggling in the water, I did not touch bottom at 
all, and only once, when my strength was almost gone, I 
felt my foot come in contact with the bank. We had dropped 
down off of the marsh flats into a deep hole, and knew that 
we were drowning. When I felt the bank, oh, what a desire 
for life that one touch inspired! To know that land was 
so near! The instant I felt that touch I summoned all my 
strength with the intent to bend my body forward and 
grasp it with my hands, but failing to reach it, and with 
the agony of despair, I felt my body bending backwards, 
but still with the thought of trying to reach the land, and 
knowing that it was my last effort. Then a drowsy feeling 
came over me, and I thought, “It is not worth the trouble; I 
am so tired.” Action ceased, and my body commenced to 
gradually sink and float out with the tide till just one foot 
was visible and by that I was rescued by a young man who, 
arriving on the scene, stepped down into the deep crevice 
between the banks, and brought both ashore. Sophia first for 
she still showed signs of life. 

, The process of coming to life again was quite as distress¬ 
ing as drowning. It was the work of many hours ere we 
were considered out of danger and warmth was restored 
to our deathly cold bodies. It was days before we were 
able to go about the house again. 

We lay in one large bed in a pleasant room, weak and ex¬ 
hausted; looking out upon what was going on about us, as 
one in a dream. The frequent calls, and the reiteration of 
the painful circumstances, were tiresome. Gradually, how¬ 
ever, we regained strength sufficiently to resume our light 
work. 

One day as I watched the incoming tide and thought that 


34 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


it was about time for the return of the Alpha I saw Mr. 
Burton drive into the yard. Needless to say that he was 
a welcome visitor, and the enjoyment of the occasion was 
intensified by the intruding thought of what might have 
been, had I been left a few moments longer in those dark 
waters. 

When we were by ourselves, just before taking his leave, 
he said in great tenderness, “I am getting afraid to leave 
you, darling; twice now you have come near slipping away 
from me. How I wish I could take you with me; but I would 
not have you share the accommodations I have as mate. I 
will be back again in November, and the vessel will be in 
port longer then for she will have to have some repairs. Be 
all ready for an early marriage when I return. I hope 
nothing will hinder next time.” 

We were to have been married at that September home¬ 
coming, if all had gone well, and the vessel in port long 
enough. 

So it came about that we were married the sixteenth day 
of November, 1860. It was a pretty wedding, with two brides¬ 
maids, all three in white, and two best men: my brother 
George, and my husband’s brother George. Young as I 
was, I made my entire trousseau—and it was a liberal one 
for those days in that country place, also my household 
linens, without the aid of a sewing machine. Mother aided 
in cutting and fitting the dresses with her unerring chart. 

In two weeks’ time my sailorman, my young husband, had 
to leave m*e again to learn for the first time what real lone¬ 
someness was. 

Why such a prize in life’s lottery came all unbidden to 
me, I knew not, save that the Lord saw, and knew that I 
needed just such a loving heart, and steady hand to guide 
my wayward steps through life, and in all its vicissitudes his 
‘^sheltering love” has been my earthly haven. 

(Since the above words were written, my bark has had 
to outride its darkest storm without the shelter, or haven.) 


CHAPTER 3 

1 HAVE now reached the period in my ‘Tife story” where, in 
* giving my own history, it will be necessary to outline 
that of another, since the events of both lives are from 
henceforth inseparably blended together. I will resume my 
narrative after about one year and a half of our married 
life had slipped away. I should scarcely have said “slipped” 
away; for many, many of those lonely days and weeks in 
which I waited and watched for my husband’s return from 
sea seemed almost years in duration. And when at length 
he came, the few brief days that he could remain at home 
was as a dream when past. For all those visits at home 
during that year and a half, when added together, only 
counted eight weeks. I shall not attempt to picture those 
partings, tortured as I was each time with the thought that he 
might never return again. I tried to be brave, but what a 
sickly attempt it was! And after he was gone, oh, the 
deathly stillness of the house that had for the few days 
previous fairly rung with shouts of merry laughter! There 
was no one to speak to, and thus break the oppressive silence. 
As I wandered from room to room, in every echo the walls 
or the shutting doors gave back, I heard the one sad word 
ever repeated— gone! gone! In whatever direction I turned 
my eyes in the vain hope to find “surcease from sorrow,” 
they met some object which rendered my loneliness more 
poignant. At times I sought to divert my mind by visiting 
the occupants of the other part of the house, but that did 
not relieve, only suspended the gloom. There was no relief. 
I must simply endure till time had worn the sharpness away. 
I tried to reason with myself that father had been going to 
sea and coming back again ever since I could remember, and 
why should I be so fearful? But I knew that everybody did 
not come back who went out on the treacherous waters. 

The winter of 1861 and 1862, at which time I take up the 
thread of my story, there were many disasters at sea. It 
was now long past the time that my husband’s vessel should 
have arrived in New York from the West Indies, whence he 
had sailed in the fall (he was then captain of the Alpha) ; 
and there had been a prolonged gale of wind on the Atlantic 
coast. Ah, me! When is there not a gale of wind on the At¬ 
lantic coast in winter time? How eagerly and hopefully I 


36 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


went to the post office each day, only to come back again sad 
and disappointed. One day when suspense became almost un¬ 
bearable, as I was scanning the “shipping news” in a lately 
arrived weekly newspaper, I read with bated breath a 
paragraph thus: 

“Spoken off Cape Hatteras, brig Alpha, of Windsor, dis¬ 
masted, laying to in a gale of wind, laboring heavily. All 
well on board.” 

For a moment it was a joy to read those last words, “all 
well on board,” but the joy faded when I took into considera¬ 
tion the time that had elapsed since they were “spoken,” 
and no news yet of their arrival, together with the chances 
of weathering the gale in that disabled condition, knowing 
as I did that the Alpha was a clumsy vessel at best—a slow 
sailer, and somewhat leaky. The suspense that weighed so 
heavily upon me was now displaced by a great anxiety. I 
was not alone though. 

^ Mr. Burton had made a flying visit of one week at home 
in October, when our little Frank was about six weeks old, 
and had made all necessary arrangements to have us moved 
from Hantsport, where we had located shortly after our 
marriage, back home to board at father’s, where we would 
be well cared for during his absence for the winter. So I 
had mother’s sympathy and father’s counsel. The latter 
having sailed one voyage with my husband, had all confi¬ 
dence in him as an efficient shipmaster, and extolled his 
skill in navigation. 

Heavy snowstorms about that time often prevented the 
mail from reaching us for days at a time. Oh, the restless 
anxiety those delays would cause. And when it came I 
could scarcely wait till some one could go to the post office 
and back, so sure was I that there was news for me. But, 
alas! for a long time none came, and the high-wrought 
eagerness would be followed by disappointment, and a re¬ 
lapse of the gloomy unrest of suspense. At length father 
became seriously apprehensive, and remarked one morning 
unknown to me, that if no news came that day, he should 
about give up all hopes of ever hearing from them again. 
But that evening a telegram was brought me of their safe 
arrival at Saint Thomas^—one of the Virgin Islands. 

In due time a letter came, giving an account of the heavy 
..gale they encountered when within twenty-four hours’ sail 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


37 


of New York; of their being dismasted, and how they made 
every effort to reach New York; but when the ship could 
bear up against the wind and waves no longer, they changed 
their course and were driven before the wind across the 
Gulf Stream, into fine weather; and in their disabled state 
they drifted back to the West Indies, and put in to Saint 
Thomas for repairs. 

It was during this voyage that he. Captain Burton, made 
the effort to save the lives of the crew of the bark Pandora 
for which services the English Government presented him 
with a fine telescope glass. The article was given in Au¬ 
tumn Leaves, under the caption of the “Alpha^s Log, No. 2.” 

After arriving at New York the ship was chartered for 
another outward bound voyage, which would occupy the 
most of the summer. But all were well, and there was no 
further need of anxious thoughts concerning them; so I 
soon regained my usual cheerfulness. And my little boy was 
much company to me. I still remained in father’s family. 

The warm, summer months had given place to delicious 
September, laden with the juices of ripened fruits and blue¬ 
berries, too. Party after party had gone out for a day to’the 
Aylsford bogs, and come back with full buckets and baskets 
of berries, bringing the report that there were still bushels of 
them remaining unpicked. Then my brother George set 
about making up a little home party. Preparations were all 
complete for an early morning start. With a little encourage¬ 
ment from mother, I left my year-old baby with her, and joined 
a party of young people, and went blueberrying. How 
strange not to have the baby, for in the whole year I had 
scarcely left him an hour. Yet I enjoyed the day of freedom 
and outdoor rambling with all the zest of girlhood, notwith¬ 
standing the fact that I was an eighteen-year-old woman. 
It was about dusk when we reached home. The drive had 
rested us, and all were in buoyant spirits. The folks in the 
house had not lighted the lamp, preferring to sit in the 
gathering shadows. Besides, they had a surprise awaiting 
me, and wished to make it more complete by “keeping dark.” 
All unconscious of their plotting, I hastened into the house. 
The door between the kitchen and sitting room was open, 
and I heard little Frank making a weary-sounding little 
whining noise; and responded, “Yes, my baby, I’m coming!*’ 
Leaving the parcels I carried on the kitchen table as I 


38 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


passed it, followed the sound, almost bounding to the far 
side of the room, where I saw dimly some one holding him 
whom I took to be father. As I essayed to take the baby 
from him a strong arm was thrown about my waist. In 
another instant I was aware it was the baby^s father who 
held us both. 

Upon inquiring as to whence he came, learned he was 
bound for the opposite shore, having some flour to discharge 
there, and since he had only rounded Cape Blomidon when 
the tide turned, he dropped in to “White Waters’’ and 
anchored. It being only a few miles below our place, he 
came ashore for m.e to go over with him. I had often 
murmured at the long absence of the tide, when a home¬ 
ward bound vessel was expected; but now how glad I was the 
tide stayed out so long, or he might have gone again before 
I reached home. One of the bright, bright pictures that 
remain on memory’s wall is our drive to the shore in the 
early moming while the dew was yet sparkling on the grass. 

The ofttime lonely, dreary past had fled away like a mist 
before the sunshine, for the world was all bright now. 

All appeared to be quiet oh board the Alpha as we neared 
the water’s edge opposite to where she swayed lazily with 
the pulsation of the tide. The captain hailed once and again 
before the answering “Aye, aye, sir!” echoed back over the 
bright waters. Then followed the usual hun’ying to and fro, 
till the boat was manned and sent on her way to the shore. 
How beautiful it all looked! The placid waters almost daz¬ 
zling in their brightness. The boat setting so lightly upon 
their surfaces, and the oars dipping and flashing in the sun¬ 
light. Presently we heard their sound in the rowlocks, as 
we sat there in the carriage, a sound that had a peculiar 
charm for me. 

Father drove his trusty steed a little way out in the 
shallow water to meet the boat before she should ground, 
and we both stepped from the carriage into the boat and were 
borne back to the ship while I sang. 

Row away, row 

O’er the waters so blue. 

Like a feather I floated 
In my gum-tree canoe. 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


39 


To stand upon a ship’s deck, inhale the scent of tarred 
ropes,—and even the greasy, smoky steam that oozed from 
the cook’s galley,—feel the gentle motion of the ship be¬ 
neath my feet, hear the rattling of chains, and the overhaul¬ 
ing of ropes, heaving the anchor, and shaking out sails pre¬ 
paratory to getting under way, was to me in those days an 
almost intoxicating delight at any time, without the happy 
addition of the presence of a newly-arrived husband. But 
now with such addition, I will leave the readers to compre¬ 
hend, if they can, my keen enjoyment of the situation, as 
the sails were unfurled to the gentle breeze, and the Alpha 
glided leisurely over the sun-bathed tide across to the landing 
of ‘‘Shiveree.” The captain’s jolly brother John, with his 
wife and babe, and her two sisters were on board also, as 
passengers from New York, who might have added to the 
pleasure of the trip, if more could have been added. 

It was the intention of the captain to land what cargo he 
had for that place, and leave on the next tide; but lo, there 
was not enough tide the next time to float her, and the con¬ 
sequence was she was “beneaped,” and all had to remain 
there for a week, which was not a desirable situation for a 
young captain; but since it could not be helped, we did not 
make ourselves unhappy about it. 

Mr. Burton resolved to leave the Alpha at that time, and 
wait an opportunity of getting something better. We soon 
went to housekeeping in a part of Father’s house. 

During the winter he accepted a berth as mate of the bark 
Wild Horse, and sailed on the first day of January for New 
York, thence to Matamoros, leaving a very lonely young 
wife behind him. 

Pereaux, now Delhaven, was too remote from the general 
thoroughfare of shipping interests, and shipping news, to 
suit those whose interests lay in that line of business, and so 
I laid my plans for moving back to Hantsport as soon as 
the weather opened. I located in my native village again, 
in a house all by myself, only a little way from what used 
to be our home. The weeks and months dragged slowly 
along, still I was not always lonely. Neighbors were near, 
and most of them were the same families that were there 
when I was a child. Good Auntie Davison, or ^‘Aunt Emily 
Ann,” as we more often called her, was like a mother to 


40 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


me; and Cousins Barbara and Annie came in and cheered 
many an otherwise lonely hour. 

It was Aunt Emily Anna who, on the morning of the third 
of the ensuing July, placed a tiny little baby girl in my 
arms. The hour was too early for getting up, so I remained 
in bed with her, and so happy and content was I with my 
little charge, that I scarcely heeded the days as they slipped 
away. Precious indeed to me was that wee form as she lay 
by my side, sleeping all the day through, unconscious of the 
yearning mother-love that was almost forcing me to give 
her a more vigorous hug than the delicately organized little 
frame justified. When the baby was about eight days old, 
another ray of brightness fell across my pathway in the 
shape of a newsy letter from my long-absent husband. The 
Wild Horse with her crew had arrived safely in New York; 
would be home in less than two weeks, after which the cap¬ 
tain, who was then sailing her, would leave, and my husband 
was to take charge. The next voyage would be to Glasgow, 
Scotland, and for me to be ready to accompany him. This 
piece of news fairly overfiowed my already well-filled cup of 
happiness. It would be the first visit since our marriage 
that would not be haunted by the knowledge of an early 
separation. 

One bright morning about two weeks after this letter was 
received, while mother and I were taking our cozy breakfast, 
and talking over our plans concerning the anticipated voy¬ 
age, a lad came bounding in the house and almost electrified 
us by imparting the news^—in a breath—^that the Wild 
Horse was coming up the river, and would be on the beach 
before noon. How we hastened to get the work all done and 
a tasty dinner prepared! We knew there was plenty of 
time for more deliberate measures, still we could not help 
hurrying. Perhaps we thought the tide might hurry a little 
also upon such an extraordinary occasion, but it did not. 
Long before noon the children had been dressed as pretty as 
possible, especially our little daughter whose presence was 
not yet known to her papa. With my own toilet I took scru¬ 
pulous care, wishing of course to look my best upon such a 
happy occasion. Knowing my husband’s admiration of the 
long black ringlets that it was mine to possess, I arranged 
them in the most becoming style, caught back with the tiniest 
of little bright red, half-opened rosebuds that peeped be- 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


41 


witchingly out from their glossy bed; both of which con¬ 
trasted well with the delicate surface which temporary sick¬ 
ness lends for a time to both hands and face—at least before 
the bloom of youth has fled—and was satisfied with the effect. 

“Vain,” do you say? Perhaps it was. But who of my 
sistei'-readers would not take pains to look their best, and 
make their husband’s home-coming as bright and joyous as 
possible, even by adding a few simple artistic touches? 

“Did it add to his joy?” 

Had you seen the love-light in the eyes, and heard the half- 
whispered, half-audible words of the—^shall I say it—hand¬ 
some young sailor, as he held his wife at arm’s length for a 
moment, before letting her head rest upon his bosom, you 
certainly would have had no further doubts. But those 
words may not be written, save in a romance. Oh, sweet 
youth-tide! Why should it ever ebb away! 

How he loved to hold our baby daughter in his arms, and 
she in turn, seemed quite content to be thus rocked. But 
our happiness was soon overshadowed. In a few days our 
little Jennie was smitten with diphtheria and was a great 
sufferer. My husband had been put in charge of the ship, 
and had taken her across the bay to load with “deals,” leav¬ 
ing us all well; and now how anxiously I waited his return. 
He came a day or so before she died. On the ninth day of 
her sickness, after all had been done that could be done, we 
could but watch and wait for death to release her. Dear 
as she was to us, we heartily wished the messenger would 
hasten and end her sufferings. But it tarried. While we 
watched and suffered, too, with each laboring breath, my 
husband drew my head down against his shoulder, and to 
divert, in part, the torturing moments—repeated some beau¬ 
tiful poetry that I never heard except on that occasion. I 
can only remember the strange blending of feelings, while 
filled with sorrow seeing the little life ebbing away, and 
listening to the beautiful words rendered in voice and accent 
that made them sound still more beautiful. A voice so 
calm, gentle, and yet so deep; so loving and so loved. It 
seemed a mingling of heaven’s sweetest peace, with earth’s 
bitterest sorrow. When at length the pure spirit had fled 
from its earthly tabernacle, we hung over our baby’s form 
for a few moments, then my husband led me gently away to 
another room, out of sight of all. Oh, the “aching void,” 


42 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


when a mother’s arms are left empty! Only a mother knows 
who has lost a treasured little infant. 

The little bright flannel dresses that had been made to 
wear while crossing the ocean were folded and laid away, 
all bedewed with tears. And now, in looking back, I realize 
more fully a loving Father’s watchful care, and how ten¬ 
derly he dealt with me is that I was not alone, but had my 
husband’s presence and strong arm to lean upon in my first 
bereavement. Nor was I to be left in loneliness, which latter 
thought was a solace indeed. The hasty preparations for 
our voyage helped to divert my mind for the time; and were 
it not for the sadness of leaving our darling behind, the voy¬ 
age would have been one of unalloyed happiness. Not being 
troubled with seasickness nor nervous fear, I gave myself 
up to the keen enjoyment of sometimes gliding smoothly over 
the sunbathed waters vdth only breeze enough to fill the 
sails; and again of bounding over the foaming, tossing bil¬ 
lows, now mounting the very crest of the waves, and again 
dipping deep into the trough of the sea, only to rise again 
and plunge through another. It was a new life to me, and 
exceedingly pleasant. I could scarcely realize for a time that 
the lonely hours would not come creeping over as in the 
past few years. 

And how I love to remember the hour when we would kneel 
together for evening prayer. My husband was not a church 
member at that time, and at first it was a cross to me to 
broach the subject of having evening prayer; but his ready 
agreement to the proposition helped me much. When “eight 
bells” was struck, I would go to our room to prepare for 
our evening worship. And when the first watch of the night 
was set, and the man at the wheel relieved, the captain would 
come below and immediately to our room, where he knew I 
was waiting his presence. He took part by reading the chap¬ 
ter; and when we knelt together, and he placed his arm 
around my waist, it strengthened me in my little trial and 
cross-bearing, and gave me the assurance that a loving 
Father’s arm was also around us, even the ship to bear her 
up amidst the storms, and to preserve us from danger. 

Our little Frank was a great pet with the sailors, who 
took pleasure in teaching him ship customs and phrases, to 
which he seemed to take quite naturally, and soon became 
an interesting feature on shipboard. 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


43 


It was on a Saturday afternoon when we dropped anchor 
off Greenock, Scotland, glad enough to get in port, for a 
bad storm was making up. All day Sunday we lay at anchor, 
while the wind howled and the cold, drizzly rain made every¬ 
thing look dismal. But the sights were all so new to me I 
spent most of the day looking from one window; first at the 
town, then at the commotion of the shipping in the harbor, 
at the great ships that rolled and pitched at their mooring, 
and occasionally others being brought in by tugboats. P’or 
a time it was quite exciting, but as the afternoon hours 
waned the novelty had given way to monotony, and every¬ 
thing looked dreary and dismal. The captain, with his little 
son Frank locked in his arms, was on the bed fast asleep. 
No one in the cabin, and such an unusual stillness about the 
decks, that to me the very air became almost oppressive. 
And then for the first time since our leaving home, a never- 
to-be-forgotten loneliness settled down upon me, and a great 
yearning to go to the far-off lonely grave of our sweet babe. 
And from that time to this I can never think or hear of 
Greenock without its being blended with the memory of that 
sensation of sorrow and loneliness, and also the gentle, 
soothing words of the husband who was wakened by a deep- 
drawn sob. 

All was astir on board our ship early on the following 
Monday morning of our arrival off Greenock. The storm 
had spent itself and the morning had dawned clear and 
bright. In a little while the tugboat was alongside, and 
soon we were being towed up the beautiful River Clyde, 
towards the city of Glasgow. As we glided along, the cus¬ 
tom house officer pointed out to me many places of note; 
among which were Loch Lomond, and other lakes; Ben 
Lomond, a mountain, and Dunbarton Castle—a gray, somber- 
looking edifice hewn out of or into a solid rock. The fort, 
the cannons, and cannon balls were all new sights to me. 
“Within the castle,’^ said the aged Scotchman, “is the 
sword of William Wallace.” His description of its size and 
weight interested us so much we resolved to come back and 
view the interior of the castle and handle the sword of 
Scotland's hero. 

My pen would fail me, aye and my words too, were I to 
attempt to describe the beauty of scenery that continually 
greeted the eye on either side of this artificial river. The 


44 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


fine residences, the ornamental trees, the beautiful flower 
gardens, the green sloping lawns, and the picturesque back¬ 
ground, all linger in my mind as a dream of the beautiful 
land. Glasgow being the first city I had ever visited, almost 
every object excited interest. The business and wealthy 
portions of the city, and the great suspension bridge, also 
the Crystal Arcade with its attractive contents, were to me 
sights of grandeur and magnificence beyond description. 
But those did not stir my feelings like the distressing poverty 
that I then witnessed for the first time. 

My readers know that I was not cradled in the lap of 
luxury, still I had never dreamed of the wretchedness, filth, 
and suffering of the poor that swarm the streets and alleys 
of large cities. I was made uncomfortable after my first 
visit ashore by my thoughts being haunted with a vision of 
one of the pitiable objects I saw on the sidewalk. A gray¬ 
haired woman walking wearily along, heedless of anything 
that was going on about her, with only a bit of a tattered 
shawl about her shoulders, nothing at all on her head; her 
skirts all begrimmed and damp with the “Scotch mist” 
hung in rags at the bottom and draggled in the mire of the 
streets, and over her bare feet. The last-named was simply 
shocking to my sight and thoughts—an aged woman without 
anything to protect her bare feet from those cold, wet, dirty 
pavements; and country girl that I was, my sympathies 
were drawn out in her behalf. I thought she must be some¬ 
body's mother, and how I would feel if my mother were in 
like condition. Then there was a young girl,—poor, pale, 
tired,—carrying a baby that looked blue, pinched, and half 
starved; one scarf made to serve for wraps for both. I 
bestowed a lingering look, accompanied with a feeling of 
pity on the poor, sickly-Iooking, little creature, as they 
passed, as well as on many other dirty little urchins as they 
were jostled about on the sidewalk. After a time, though, 
I became accustomed to such sights. 

When in port, sea captains always go ashore to their place 
of business and seldom return till after business hours; until 
their ships are chartered and all arrangements made for the 
next voyage. After which, perhaps, they are at liberty for 
a day or so—while she is being loaded—and perhaps not. 
The latter was the case this time, so we did not get our 
visit to Dunbarton Castle. 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


45 


I think it was the morning following my first visit ashore, 
while standing on the quarter-deck, looking about, after the 
captain had gone, that four or five half-starved, cold, hungry- 
looking little children came wandering down towards the 
vessel. The eldest, a girl of perhaps nine or ten years, was 
carrying a four- or five-months-old baby in her small arms, 
and notwithstanding her continual boosting it up, they looked 
as if they would give way beneath their burden and let the 
baby fall. They looked wistfully on board as they came 
near, and without a thought of anything but to make that 
cold, hungry-looking baby more comfortable, I stepped out 
across the “gangway,” took it in my arms, telling the chil¬ 
dren to follow me down in the cabin, where they could get 
warm. A little later when the steward came in the cabin he 
gazed for a moment in astonishment; all the ragamuffins 
were standing about the stove in a contented manner, eating- 
bread and butter, and I had the baby in my lap, feeding it 
from a saucer of soaked crackers with milk and sugar, of 
which it ate with a relish. As soon as the steward could 
recover his breath he said, “Oh, gracious! Mrs. Burton, this 
will never do; you will have all the little beggars in the city 
down here if you go to feeding them.” 

“But see, steward,” I said, “how hungry the poor little 
creatures are.” 

“Well, now,” said he in his slow, easy manner, “you’ll 
have a nice time of it if you go to feeding all that come here 
hungry. When these go ashore they will send a dozen more 
down. You had better send them ashore before the mate 
finds them out, for he v/ill frighten the life out of them if 
he does nothing worse.” 

“Well,” I replied, “as soon as I am done feeding this poor, 
famished baby, they must go away and not come any more, 
I suppose.” 

Next day I saw them hanging around at a little distance 
astern of the vessel, and watched my chance when the mate 
was out of sight, and threw them some hard bread. But 
the mate saw them after awhile, and picking up a cudgel, 
made after them with such yells and gestures as though he 
was going to beat them all, that they never came back any 
more. 

From Glasgow we brought a cargo to Halifax, Nova Scotia; 
thence to Windsor, and loaded with plaster for New York. 


46 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


The cold winter weather was now upon us and we found our¬ 
selves icebound in East River, New York, for a length of 
time. In January we sailed again for Matamoros which 
charter was to bring us back to New York. Taking all things 
into consideration, I perhaps would have acted more wisely 
if I had gone home instead of undertaking the voyage. But 
to me, any risk, while under my husband’s protecting care, 
was preferable to the dull loneliness of a winter at home 
without him, saying nothing of the terror of going back on 
the coast again in a small vessel. Besides, there appeared 
to be very little risk of our not being home before July, 
even with the knowledge that there is no certain average of 
time in crossing the Gulf of Mexico. One might be treated 
to repeated squalls or prolonged calms. Our passage across 
was longer than had been anticipated; but we hoped for a 
good “run” home, though we could not hope for a quick dis¬ 
patch at Matamoros, where all shipping has to lie at anchor 
outside and reload cargo by means of the few lighters that 
were in service, even if work could be kept up all the time. 
But there were times when the sea broke so heavily over the 
bar, that even those did not venture out. 

And again, each vessel had to wait its turn, and ours was 
long in coming; so there was nothing to be done but wait 
and watch—^watch the lucky few who by having got there 
before us, were being loaded or unloaded, together with every 
other movement we could discover on the anchoring ground; 
and sometimes watch ship’s boats that ventured in over the 
breaking bar and capsized in the act, and more or less of 
the crew drown, which claimed a greater degree of interest 
from us by bringing to mind a similar circumstance, and 
the narrow escape of my own sailorman while there in the 
same bark the year before. It happened in this wise. 'When 
they w’ere nearly ready for sea, on their homeward-bound 
voyage, there came a day when the surf rolled in over the 
bar heavily, and no lighter ventured out. The captain not 
wishing to lose a day, thought it a good chance while the 
mate—it will be remembered that Mr. Burton was mate that 
voyage—was not busy taking in cargo, to get the water casks 
filled. He told Mr. Burton to lower the long-boat and take 
a couple of water casks, and what men he wanted, and go 
ashore for water. To which the mate made answer that the 
bar was unsafe to cross. But the captain did not remand 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


47 


his order, and to refuse to obey would be mutiny; so he 
prepared to go, taking with him the best swimmers, though 
a poor one himself. They were being watched from the deck 
of many a vessel, as they neared the breakers, to see the 
success or failure of their daring undertaking. While 
going in over the first roller, the oar by which the mate was 
steering, broke—as is often the case—^and the boat breached 
to and capsized with the mate beneath her. At the time he 
wore a pair of long-topped rubber boots, and quickly be¬ 
coming aware that they would soon take him to the bottom, 
his first thought was to get rid of them; and then and there 
under the boat and under water too, he nimbly performed a 
remarkable feat, which was to double up and pull his 
boots off. And in so doing, got out from under the boat. 
Not losing his presence of mind for one moment, nor for¬ 
getting that the men were in his care, he called to all hands 
to get hold of and climb upon the boat, which was floating 
near them, but bottom upwards; and while they were busy 
obeying O'rders they were not so sensible of their danger. 
Fortunately all had gotten on by the time another roller 
reached them; and thus astride of the keel, holding on for 
dear life, they went over it—^or more properly speaking, it 
went over them. When that had passed, the mate said, “Now 
all hands drop into the water and lePs right the boat.” Tell¬ 
ing two to hold to the gunwales on one side and two on the 
other, while he would hold to the stern and steer her over 
the next roller; after which he thought they would be in 
shallow water where they could walk her ashore. The men 
were true to their officer, and with his help had accomplished 
the order, and taken their places when the next breaker 
struck them. All held fast to the boat while it passed over. 
But they were still in deep water, and, fortunately, for them, 
were being drawn out by the receding waters, faster than 
borne inward, and ere long were outside the bar again. They 
had not long to remain there though, for strong, willing 
hands, impelled by kind hearts, were bending to their oars 
“to the rescue,” and all got safely on board the stranger 
boat; after which thev bailed out their own boat—which, 
though floating, was full of water—and took her in tow 
while they picked up their oars that were floating about on 
the sea. Then thev boarded their own boat again and went 
in quest of, and picked up their empty water casks, and re- 


48 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


turned to the Wild Horse with no further loss than that of 
the mate’s rubber boots. 

And now again it was the season for ^‘northers,” that is, 
sudden gales of wind from the north, almost hurricanes, that 
blew right on shore and were very disastrous to shipping. 
The fear of those, together with the danger that had to be 
encountered at each going ashore, both from the bar, and 
also the “smallpox” which was then raging in the little town 
of Elsinore kept me in a state of unexpressed dread most of 
the time. The captain did not go ashore any more than was 
really necessary. But as captain, it was necessary to go a 
great deal, at least until he got his ship chartered. He never 
once sent his men ashore; and always went himself in the 
lighters, having our men row him to whatever vessel we 
saw a lighter at work. At such times I would watch him 
from our deck till the naked eye could no longer discern his 
features, then resort to the spyglass and watch the lighter 
till it was safely over the bar. After which the hours were 
long and wearisome until the sun would begin to get near 
the horizon. And then again I would strain my eyes, and 
nerves too, scanning, with the aid of the glass, every move¬ 
ment of boats on those inhabited waters; and also every 
far-off ship, to see if there was not an ensign in the main 
rigging, for that was the sign by which we knew that the 
captain had come to that ship—he came on the lighters to 
whatever ship they went, and our mate sent the boat for him. 
Sometimes it failed to appear at all, for it was at times 
needful for him to go up to Matamoros on a steamer that 
plied the inland river—and if the steamer was late in the 
day on starting he could not get back again the same night. 
At such times the waiting was one of restless anxiety; for 
I never knew till he came on board again, just what was 
detaining him, or how long he might be detained; or if a 
norther might burst upon us, and we have to weigh anchor 
or slip the cable and go to sea without him. 

Apart from those unpleasant diversions on my part, the 
days and weeks passed on in a monotonous routine, by us 
and all others on the mooring ground. Both England and 
America were represented there by their man-of-war ships. 
The one carrying the British flag lay so near to us that by 
observing we learned the routine of duty about deck both 
morning and evening; also the features and uniform of the 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


49 


quarteiTnaster, and never failed to hear the clear notes of 
the bugle that called the flags from the masthead each eve¬ 
ning just at the moment the sun sank from sight. The occa¬ 
sional cannonading of targets set in the water, which usually 
took place on Sunday, was considered a pleasant break in 
the tiresome monotony of those long weeks and months that 
dragged so slowly away. Upon one occasion a real excitement 
was gotten up by several men deserting the British man-of- 
war. The incidents in detail were so like those described by 
Brother E. Stafford, when he with others deserted his ship, 
that while reading his, they assimilated themselves in my 
mind as being one and the same. They, too, took the time 
when the quartermaster was at breakfast. From the time 
he went below we discerned that something was wrong about 
the deck, and watched with intense interest. The boat was 
hastily drawn up at the side of the ship towards us, and the 
men tumbled in, in a most disorderly manner, and had got¬ 
ten out of the reach of pistol shot before they were discov¬ 
ered. They, too, pulled warily among the vessels to protect 
them from sight, and also from the shots of the pursuing 
officers, and thus kept their distance. Shot after shot was 
sent after them, while both boats were in the clear space 
before reaching the breakers, but none fell. We saw they 
were pulling for Texan waters. It was a wild chase, watched 
by all with bated breath. The sea was not heavy on the bar, 
still the officers did not attempt to follow them after they 
reached that point. We saw the boat rise and fall with the 
swell several times; then saw her drifting about without 
occupants. Whether they were upset, or left her and swam 
ashore, we did not know. It was reported that two were 
drowned and the rest reached the Texan side, and thus were 
safe from their pursuers. But since it was all we had to 
talk about for so long, we each made the very most of the 
affair. 

In process of time our cargo had been discharged and a 
portion of a return cargo taken in, when it became necessary 
for the captain to go ashore again to see what detained our 
being farther loaded, and perhaps would have to make an¬ 
other trip to Matamoros. 

It was a bright, beautiful morning when he gave little 
Frank and me the parting kiss, and disappeared over the 
ship^s side into the boat—to be rowed to Captain Wood^s 


50 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


vessel, where there was a lighter nearly ready to go ashore 
—saying at the same time in his usual cheery way, “Keep a 
good lookout to-morrow for an ensign in the rigging, and 
send the boat for me.” 

This was said to the mate as well as to cheer me, though 
I was already unusually cheerful that morning. It was one 
of those mornings that are too glorious to be of long dura¬ 
tion; but while they do last, all creation seems to smile and 
partake of its glory and brightness. So we smiled and 
waved handkerchiefs till the boat had steered its way among 
the vessels, and was hidden from view for awhile. How glad 
I was that the morning was so bright. It will help me not 
to be lonesome, I thought, for who could be lonesome on such 
a glorious day; and to-morrow I shall be watching for his 
return, and so the time will slip away. Presently the boat 
came in sight again, and with the aid of the telescope,— 
presented to my husband by the British Government,—I saw 
him very plainly as he stepped from the boat on board the 
lighter. Then I watched the lighter till they had crossed 
the bar and landed safely on shore. And now that he was 
out of sight, it was as though a cloud had shut out the light 
of the sun. A reaction of feelings set in, a gloomy dreariness 
that I vainly tried to fight off. Before noon the sun was 
indeed obscured, and a long swell commenced to roll in from 
far out at sea. Mr. Coalfieet, our mate, knew those omens 
indicated a “norther.” I feared as much, before I learned 
the fact; and a storm meant that all communication with the 
shore would be cut off. Can anyone imagine how depressed 
and restless I was? Rendered more so, too, by the electricity 
that fills the air when a storm is gathering. Mr. Coalfieet 
was a distant relative of mine; and when not at sea, lived 
in the village of Hantsport; a man in whom we could repose 
all confidence. The second mate was my husband’s brother; 
so it was better for me than if those officers had been strang¬ 
ers. All was done that could be done to secure the safety of 
the ship and those on board before the storm was really upon 
us. Fortunately it was not so severe as many others had 
been, so we were not compelled to go to sea. But it was a 
dreary, anxious time with us on board; and oh, so anxious 
for the captain on shore. 

The steamer had not left for Matamoros when he saw the 
approaching storm, and so he did not go, but took his station 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


51 


at the “lookout,” and by the aid of its far-sighted telescope 
could discern much that took place on deck until the dark¬ 
ness shut us from view. It was a night of painful anxiety 
for both parties. I had become accustomed to storms, and 
did not so much mind that—it was the fear of having to go 
to sea without the captain. With the early light of the morn¬ 
ing he and Captain Wood were again at the lookout and 
rejoiced to see that both their ships had held their anchorage. 
Two smaller vessels had commenced dragging their anchors, 
and were nearing the bar, when they slipped their cables 
and put out to sea. I do not know now just how long the 
gale lasted, or that the wind continued to blow after the 
gale was spent, but for several days afterwards the sea rolled 
in and broke over the bar, too heavily to be met by outcom- 
ing boats. At length it commenced to subside, and we hoped 
by the next day the lighters would come out. But the next 
day proved to be a rough one, which put an end to our 
hopes of seeing the captain for a day or so more. 

I had previously exacted a promise from him never to 
attempt to come out when there was the least apparent 
danger. Sometimes when there was no storm at all, the sea 
broke so heavily over the bar that it was quite dangerous. 
And now since he had been gone so long, I feared more lest 
he should attempt to come too soon, than that he would not 
come; for with the glass we had seen one and another come 
out towards the bar and then go back. 

On a Sunday morning, before the water was smooth 
enough on the bar for the lighters to resume work, we saw 
just one leave the shore, and eagerly watched it till it reached 
Captain Wood’s vessel. Captain Wood was a Nova Scotian 
and an acquaintance of ours. In a little while the ensign 
was hanging in the main rigging. How almost wild with 
delight I was after the man;/ days of weary watching and 
suspense, often wondering if he ever would be with us again! 
and som.etimes even trying to school myself to the situation, 
if he never should come back. The mate remained on board, 
faithful to the charge that v/as left to him, and sent the 
second mate and two men with the boat. I saw a slender, 
well-dressed man step in the boat (my husband was a 
slender man then), and the thought never occurred to me 
that it might be some one else. But when they drew near 
enough to see the face, it was that of Captain Wood. For 


52 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


a moment I felt riveted to the spot; and my heart felt like 
lead. The mate was sitting by the rail near where I was 
standing, and may have heard me say, “It is not Joseph.” I 
turned and walked slowly down in the cabin, utterly void of 
thought or feeling, except that there was something dread¬ 
ful coming to me, and I wanted to get as far away from it 
as I could. I heard the boat v/hen she struck the side of the 
ship with a low thud that sounded like a dismal knell; heard 
Captain Wood when he stepped on the deck; and heard him 
and the mate talking in a low tone (I was not deaf then), 
so much lower, I thought, than they were accustomed to. I 
could not catch a word; and oh, how long it seemed before 
they started to come to the cabin; and yet how I wished they 
would not come. 

When the agony of suspense to which I had wrought up 
my feelings were becoming unbearable, they descended the 
companionway. The door was opened and hooked back 
against the mizzen mast that went up through the cabin, 
and I was sitting on the lounge just back of the door. As 
they got just inside the door—but still hid from my view— 
they halted, and I heard Captain Wood say, “Is she asleep, 
do you think?” 

“No, I guess not,” said Mr. Coalfleet, as he peered around 
the mast. 

These words confirmed for the time, all my fears, and I took 
in the fancied situation, viz, they had lingered on deck be¬ 
cause they could not bear to break the dreadful news to me, 
that he was either drowned or sick with the smallpox. Still 
I sat there and kept on breathing. They walked rather de¬ 
murely into the cabin. I did not rise to greet Captain Wood, 
nor did I speak at all. But as he passed along to the far end 
of the cabin, I watched with bated breath every move¬ 
ment and expression, inwardly pleading for him not to tell 
me. Probably my staring at him in silence tended to dis¬ 
concert him, for he sat a moment with downcast glance, toy¬ 
ing with the side of the table. But how long those few sec¬ 
onds seemed to me! Then in a quiet way he said: 

“I suppose you are not aware that Captain Burton—” 

At these words I bent breathlessly forward, and it seemed 
as if everything v/as about to whirl into a chaos of blackness; 
but still I caught the words—“went up to Matamoros yester- 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


53 


day to clear, will be down this afternoon and come off in the 
steam lighter in the morning.” 

What a reaction after that terrible mental strain! And 
now it was their turn to be alarmed. I suppose it was more 
like a groan than a sigh of relief that this piece of news 
brought. My strength left me and I drooped forward. Neither 
Mr. Coalfleet nor Captain Wood knew what to make of my 
strange manner. It had not occurred to them that they had 
given me such a start. In a few moments though I recovered 
myself again, and in answer to their look of inquiry said, 
“You frightened me so! I was sure the captain was either 
drowned or sick with the smallpox.” 

“Why were you frightened?” they asked. 

“Oh, your coming without him, and your manner was so 
strange when you came in the cabin,” I said by fragments, 
through the trembling, falling tears, and feeling very un¬ 
decided whether to cry or laugh, or both. 

“What leather-heads we were,” said Mr. Coalfleet impa¬ 
tiently, who because of my delicate state of health had been 
both vigilant and careful during the captain’s absence, espe¬ 
cially that nothing should occur on board to cause me un¬ 
necessary alarm. “Come to think of it we did come down 
here like a funeral. We thought perhaps you were in your 
room or asleep, and did not wish to disturb you.” 

am sorry we frightened you so,” said Captain Wood, 
pleasantly, “I shall be more careful next time how I bring 
good news. I thought that look you gave me, when I came 
in was because I was intruding. Captain Burton wished me 
to come and let you know that he was well. It was only 
yesterday that he learned there was no more cargo for him, 
and he thought best to go up to Matamoros and ^clear,’ then 
he would not have to go on shore again.” 

The prospect of getting away from that dreadful place 
was cheering. All were anxious for a quick passage, that 
they might step foot on land again; and I, more than they 
all. But such was not in store for us. How wisely the great 
Creator has shielded his creatures from looking into the 
future of this life at least! 

When about half way across the gulf the light breeze that 
had accompanied us so far dropped away altogether. There 
is nothing so much dreaded by seamen as a dead calm. 
But it was borne with cheerfully for awhile. When the 


54 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


days merged into weeks though, the cheerfulness gave place 
to a restlessness that was tedious to bear. Yet we hoped 
that each day would bring something better. But each day’s 
reckoning showed that we were still in very nearly the same 
place as the day before. 

The time would have hung far more heavily upon us, were 
it not for our little three-year-old Frank, who lived in 
blissful ignorance of the increasing scarcity of food and 
water. The weather was fine, so he could be on deck all the 
time, and he enjoyed himself each day to the full extent of 
his childlike playfulness, and was the chief source of amuse¬ 
ment to all on board. Sometimes though he got into serious 
mischief; such as striking ‘^eight bells,” to bring the sleep¬ 
ing portion of the crew on deck before their “watch” below 
was half over; or go to the second mate’s berth and shake 
him till he awoke, saying, “Uncle Eben! better you turn 
ober.” 

After such pranks, he would not be in favor with the men 
for awhile, and would have to stay on the quarterdeck as a 
punishment. 

The water that we had to drink was brackish when brought 
on board (and which cost two cents per gallon), kept getting 
worse all the time. It got thick and ropy like some soft-soap 
I have seen—break off a dipperful and the rest would fall 
back in the cask in a jelly-like mass. The cook boiled it and 
set it to cool. But ah me, nothing nor nobody could get 
cool—night or day in that tropical heat—and such bad tast¬ 
ing, bad smelling, lukewarm water was very unsatisfying. 
I used to sit for hours, yea, days, under the awning that 
shielded off the burning sun, and long for a good drink of 
cold water, thinking of the clear, running brooks at home, or 
of a cool spring at the mountain’s base, shaded by thickly’^ 
woven boughs of stately trees, where often we had slaked 
our thirst, and wondered if such a luxury would be granted 
us again; and if so, would I ever lose sight of our present 
condition so as to forget to thank the great eternal Father 
for the boon? How we wished for a rainstorm! One came 
at length. It was only a squall, though, and was over so 
soon that we only caught one pitcher of water, and two 
men and the old colored cook were tramping about on the 
house in their bare feet reefing the mainsail, while that was 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


55 


being caught; after letting it settle we drank it as a sweet 
beverage. 

Our small stores, too, were getting scarce, so our daily 
fare was not tempting; but that I did not mind so much as 
the lack of water, which had ultimately become so offensive 
that when compelled to drink, I held my nostrils together to 
keep from smelling or tasting it. One day we heard a joyful 
shout from the mate while down in the hold. He had been 
in search of, and found a cask of good water. He said when 
he opened the cask, a little cloud of insects flew out, and 
the water was clear and quite good. In time each cask 
of water purified itself in the same way. 

As the weeks that were numbered into months of that 
terrible calm wore on, my expectations, then hopes, of get¬ 
ting home to prepare to receive the expected little stranger, 
faded gradually away; and had there not been a more serious 
matter staring us in the face, would doubtless have caused 
me deep distress. But as the days passed away the provisions 
did also. All that remained was a barrel of dry salt beef; a 
little flour that had soured with heat and dampness; some 
hard bread that had heated and steamed so it had to be taken 
out of the locker and dried every day 'to keep it from mil¬ 
dewing altogether. 

During the early part of the voyage I had by way of 
diversion studied navigation until I could work up a day's 
“reckoning” and get our position on the chart. But latterly 
when the outlook was so gloomy, the restlessness gave place 
to a sort of mute despair. 

We had drifted rather than sailed into the latitude of Key 
West, off Florida, the extreme southern point of the South¬ 
ern States, and were getting light breezes occasionally. It 
was evident we had not provisions enough to last us into 
New York, so as we neared the track of the West India 
traders, all eyes were scanning the “waste of waters,” in 
the hope of sighting a sail. The hope was at length grati¬ 
fied. How reviving was the cry—that day especially—of 
“Sail ho!” A sort of reassurance that there was somebody 
else alive in the world besides ourselves. 'Twas a tall- 
masted brigantine, clipper build; was on her way from the 
West Indies to some of the Southern States; had all the 
canvas spread out to the light breeze that could be crowded 
on, and was skimming along gracefully. Would cross our 


56 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


bow at no very great distance from us. As she drew near, 
the Wild Horse {hoiking horse would have been more signi¬ 
ficant) was hove to and the ensign put half mast. They 
answered the signal and was bearing down towards us; but 
in a few minutes she changed her course and stood off 
before the wind; leaving us directly behind her. Oh, what a 
feeling of despair swept over me at this sudden downfall of 
our hopes! The captain and mate were standing together 
on the “quarter”; both countenances fell. “It can not be 
possible,” said the captain, “that a mariner will disregard 
a signal of distress! especially when he is so near, and in 
smooth water.” 

The mate replied—rather bitterly—“I hope when he is in 
distress he will remember this day’s act.” 

It seemed that we were going to be left to our fate, and 
in my heart I cried unto the Lord to move their hearts with 
compassion and cause them to return. How merciful is the 
Lord our God! I had not kept up the evening devotions 
spoken of in a previous chapter, and had been unfaithful in 
many ways, but in my hour of need he heard and answered. 
Again we saw the sails being “shaken up” to the wind, and 
the bows of the majestic little ship turned toward us. We 
could have shouted for joy. Before getting too near she 
“rounded to” with yards laid “aback.” Our boat was 
launched, manned, and sent to her for provisions. While at 
a distance the captain hailed to know what was wanted, 
and was quite relieved to learn that it was provisions. Told 
the mate that as he started to run down to us, he began 
to fear we were privateers (for it was during the American 
war), and had used the signal of distress to decoy him to¬ 
wards us. And since about all he was worth was in that 
vessel, he thought he would keep his distance and so stood 
off again. But did not feel right in doing so, lest possibly he 
might be leaving some one really in distress, since it was 
no unusual thing to be becalmed two or three months in 
those regions. And even if we purposed evil, he felt quite 
sure he could run away from us. He was not well enough 
provisioned to furnish an ample supply, and still secure 
himself against a long trip should he, too, be overtaken by 
a calm, but gave some of all the mate had orders to get. 
And when Mr. Coalfleet told him that the captain had his 
wife and three-year-old son on board, he added a can of 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


57 


condensed milk, and as a present sent some raspberry and 
lemoned cordial—two bottles of each. We felt lonesome when 
the clipper filled away and glided gradually out of our 
sight—apparently of her own accord—while we were creep¬ 
ing along at such a snail’s pace. But being fortified with 
new supplies, together with a good cup of coffee with milk 
and sugar in it, we bore our loneliness better. 

Not long after this incident our calm, fine weather termi¬ 
nated with a vengeance truly. About sundown on the eve¬ 
ning of the twenty-seventh of June, the air became oppres¬ 
sively still, and the waters beneath and about us assumed an 
almost inky blackness; the ripples on the surface seemed 
eager to cuddle around the ship, would lap her sides, and 
fall back with an empty-sounding splash, as if they them¬ 
selves felt uncomfortable, and were seeking to escape 
from the monster seas that would soon be chasing and press¬ 
ing hard upon each other. All on board were aware that 
a storm would soon burst upon us, and made the necessary 
preparations; but none too soon. A vivid flash of lightning, 
a tremendous crash of thunder, and the squall was upon 
us; which squall swelled into a gale of wind, while the rain- 
clouds emptied themselves upon us. The saying, “It never 
rains but it pours,” was true in this case. After our long 
famine for water it now came in abundance. The sea at 
times came pouring in over the rail, and the rain poured 
down from the clouds; and that was not all—it poured down 
through the house in every direction. The boiling, blistering 
sun that had beaten down upon us for the past six months 
had blistered the paint, stewed the pitch out of the seams, 
and warped the wood; consequently there were leaks every¬ 
where. The sails that had hung and flapped from side to 
side, or against the mast, as the ship rocked to the bend of 
the undertow, were now strained to their utmost, as our 
Wild Horse was driven before the gale, rearing and plung¬ 
ing uncomfortably. All the light sail® were taken in; 
others were reefed down, then furled, till only the storm 
trysail remained, and she ultimately was hove to under 
“bare poles.” At about nine o’clock in the evening she took 
on board a heavy sea about midships. The main deck got 
the most of it, but enough came over the quarter-deck and 
down the companionway to burst the cabin door open, split¬ 
ting the panel, and so came with a rush into the cabin. I 


58 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


did not know whether we were on the water or going under. 
I had gone to bed, and my room door was closed, so I did 
not realize very much of it, and paid little attention to it, 
my thoughts being otherwise occupied. I was glad that our 
little Frank had gone to sleep without a thought of fear. 
The second mate and cook set to work bailing out the cabin, 
at first by bucketsful on the lee side, and then with a bailing 
pan. Shortly after this the captain came below. How glad 
I was that at length he could be spared. I never called upon 
him in a storm, for he always made it a point to come to 
me as soon as he could leave the deck, if it was only for a 
minute, to cheer and reassure me, and answer all the ques¬ 
tions I had to ask of the probabilities and possibilities of 
our situation. The sight of his face at such times was as 
cheering as sunshine; and this time, how I wanted to cling 
to him to be soothed and comforted, but his oilclothes and 
“sou’wester” were all dripping wet. When he saw how un¬ 
comfortably wet the bed was, and that I really needed his 
presence, he said, “I’ll be back in a moment,” and going 
to where he could speak to the mate who stood near the 
companionway door, said: “Mr. Coalfleet, have the cabin 
stove sent down here to dry some of this water up!” The 
order was simple enough, but it sent a shiver of unworded 
fear over the kind-hearted mate; and as he afterwards said, 
his teeth fairly chattered when he repeated the order to 
the men at his service, for he knew what it all meant. 

When the stove was put up, the fire made, and all,had left 
the cabin but the mate, he turned a very inquiring look on 
the captain. To which he replied by giving some instruc¬ 
tion concerning the ship, saying he might not be on deck 
during the night. 

“All right, sir,” said the mate; “give yourself no uneasi¬ 
ness about the ship. I will take care of her.” 

He thought since no medical aid could be procured I must 
surely die, and expected the captain to display a nervous anx¬ 
iety; but saw no signs of such, nor was there any manifested 
during the night; perhaps, because it was in the nature of 
his calling to be m.aster of the situation, no matter what the 
emergency might be. He was calm, self-collected, and even 
cheerful. He ingeniously formed a canopy over the bed 
with the oilcloth from the table, so arranging it that the 
leakage it collected would empty itself on the floor beyond 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


59 


the bed with the rolling of the ship. And after repeated 
changing and drying the sheets and quilts, the bed was 
made passably comfortable. ’Twas a fearful night though. 
The ship had not cargo enough to keep her steady, so she 
ix)lled and tossed. The spray flew over and the rain poured 
down. There was an inch or two of water on the floor in our 
room that continually swashed, swashed from side to side, 
with the rolling of the ship. At half past seven in the 
morning, while “seven bells” were being struck, the man at 
the wheel was startled by hearing a tiny wail ascending 
from the cabin, which mingled as a chime with the tones of 
the great iron bell, and another little daughter was sent to 
us to take the place of the one that had flown. 

We were then off Cape Hatteras. The captain, though 
only twenty-five years old, was fully equal to the task of 
rigging a vessel of any class; but when this little specimen 
of humanity presented herself to be “rigged,” he almost had 
to own he was beaten. When the patient was able to leave 
her bed, he used to fix up such a temptingly comfortable 
resting place on the lounge, then carry her out in his arms 
and place her upon it, and with the little one by her side, 
survey them both with an air of pride and pleasure. With 
loving care his own hands prepared the repast as daintily 
as could be, with the few articles of food reserved from that 
procured from our oceanic benefactor, which loving care and 
tender nursing was duly appreciated, and both were content 
and happy. And thrice happy when we reached our destina¬ 
tion; for our provisions were about gone. 

It was July 4, 1864, that we were towed into New York, 
amid the report of guns and firecrackers, and floating stars 
and stripes everjrwhere. Our baby was ten days old, and I 
was able to be dressed and sit up on the lounge. 

Since Frank nor I had been ashore since we left New 
York in January, he had evidently grown to think that all 
the rest of the world were men except his own mamma; 
for when a lady friend came on board to see me, his eyes 
opened in the greatest astonishment, as he said, “Why! is 
there another mamma!** 

Two weeks after our arrival in New York we reached 
Hantspoii;, to the great joy of friends and owners of the 
vessel, who had about given up hope of ever seeing us again, 
until they heard of our arrival in New York. 


60 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


Seven months had elasped since I had stood on land, and 
now its rigid stillness tired me, and made poor little Frank 
seasick. 

In a short time my husband sailed again for Glasgow, 
Scotland, but not until he had seen us comfortably situated 
in rooms of a house owned by one Captain Shaw whose lonely 
wife and two little girls were glad enough to have us in the 
house for company. Being wearied with the hardships of 
the last voyage, I thought I should now be happy with my 
sweet babe, and interesting little boy, and was at least, peace¬ 
fully content during the summer months. Our little darling 
Josephine—named by her father before we left the vessel— 
was a never-failing source of delight, and pleasant, too, it 
was to watch the three children, Frank and Mrs. Shawls 
two little girls, as they played contentedly on the soft green 
grass of the yard, or walked hand in hand around the flower 
garden. Frank showed a decided preference for the younger 
of the two, who was one year older than himself, and was 
very gallant in his deportment towards her. “Edna,” said 
the four-year-old lover one day, “do you like me better than 
anybody else in the world?” 

“Yes,” answered the little maiden, half shyly. 

“Well, don’t speak a word of it,” said the young hopeful, 
“for fear somebody might hear.” And drawing her closely 
to him, pressed a kiss on her lips, and away they ran hand 
in hand, as happy as lovers ever were, not knowing that 
mamma had witnessed the betrothal. 

But the summer months passed away, and the dreary, 
cruel pangs of loneliness that for the past year had almost 
been lost sight of, now returned at times with double force; 
especially when the chilling blasts of rain and wind beat 
against the windows and bespoke the coming winter. Mrs. 
Shaw used often to make long visits from home; then the 
house would be very quiet, and the evenings very long. 

In the early autumn my boy was stricken with a severe 
and prolonged illness of inflammation of the brain. It was 
while this sickness was coming on that I had the strange ex¬ 
perience of the spirit leaving the body. I had felt very lonely 
all day—a dark, lowering, dismal day, in which the wind by 
spells shook the house and made a moaning sound through 
the trees. 

And when night came on I felt unusually depressed. Mrs. 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


61 


Shaw had taken her two little girls and gone away for a few 
days. So there was a deathlike stillness in the house after I 
had put my little boy in his crib and sat rocking my babe, 
while my thoughts were far over the sea. The evening hours 
hung heavily upon me; no one with whom to exchange a 
word. How I longed for my husband^s society. His ship 
was then in Glasgow, and it would be long ere he would be 
at home again. Becoming more dismally lonesome every 
hour, I took my babe and went to bed to seek forgetfulness 
in sleep. But sleep seemed to have deserted me, for I lay 
hour after hour thinking, thinking. The clock that kept up 
its unwearied tick, tick, had struck eleven some time ago; 
it must soon strike twelve now. Would I ever go to sleep? 
Did I sleep? I don’t know; but what followed was as real to 
me as any reality ever was. 

I was within a few steps of the end of the dock in Glas¬ 
gow, at which my husband’s vessel lay, and going towards 
her. The night was thick and dark; but the lights that 
gleamed forth from the tall lamp-posts were sufficient to 
discern every object about the dock. Everything was quiet. 
The policeman was on his beat, back and forth along the dock, 
where he could overlook the decks of the ships; and as I 
crossed it I passed immediately in front of him, and wondered, 
as I did so, that he did not take notice of me. I stepped from 
the dock down on the vessel’s rail, and down on deck, as 
easily as if they had been steps of a foot high, instead of four 
or five feet, and passed across the deck to the cabin. While 
thus passing, more quickly than an ordinary walk, and as 
motionless as a shadow, I saw everything about the deck as 
plainly as I ever did. Everything was snug and in order, 
and the ship’s watchman who was one of the crew was 
on the forecastle deck. I passed down the companionway 
and through the cabin. How homelike it all looked in that 
room that had been my home for over a year. There were 
my friends—the lounge, the-table, the sharp click, clack, of 
the patent lever chronometer, and the peculiar smell of the 
ship’s cabin, were all familiar to me, and I smiled as I 
passed along, noting how everything was just as when I left. 

The door of the captain’s room was open and hooked back 
against the wall, a small lamp was burning in his room; he 
was asleep with his face towards me as I stood in front 
of the bed. What a feast for my eyes to look upon that face 


62 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


even if it was unconscious of my presence! I stood looking 
at him for a few seconds, and was about to stoop and kiss 
him, when I heard a rapping, and knew that it was on my 
bedroom window in Hantsport, which was on the other side 
of the Atlantic Ocean; and knew too, that I had to go back 
in answer to it; and I thought to myself, “ThaPs too bad, 
just as I have got here!” But I had no choice in the matter, 
go I must. Still I lingered a few seconds looking at him, 
till the rap was repeated. I turned and passed swiftly through 
the cabin, across the deck, stepped up on the rail, and on the 
dock, and through the door into my bedroom. 

Just as I merged through the door, or doorway, I knew not 
which, I stood for a moment with my back to the door. 
Immediately in front of me was the window, and I saw the 
dark, bushy face of a man almost pressed against the win¬ 
dow glass. I saw little Frank asleep in his crib, and the 
three-month baby—how pure and innocent she looked— 
sleeping on the ann of that clumsy, logy-looking mass that 
I knew was me, or the part of me that must be made to an¬ 
swer the call; and I dreaded taking up the cumbersome 
weight again. 

All this took but a moment, when the rap, rap, rap came 
again on the window, accompanied with the words, ‘Ts 
there anj^body living here?” I saw the man’s hand when he 
gave the first rap, and was conscious of making a hasty 
movement towards the bed, and as soon as the words were 
out of his m.outh, I sat up in bed bodily and answered very 
impatiently, “Who are you, and what do you want?” 

At any other time I might have been frightened, for both 
the voice and the hea,vily bearded face were strange to me; 
but as it was, I was simply annoyed. There was no need, 
however to have been afraid; for the man only wanted to 
get into the other part of the house to land some flour 
that he had brought from Windsor. While rolling the 
barrel of flour in, he asked what time of night it was. I 
looked; it was ten minutes after or of twelve. “Is it possible^ 
it is so late?” he said; while I was thinking. Can it be possible 
it is no later? I was in hopes it was near daylight. 

All through the month of October Frank was very sick. 
His life was almost despaired of. But owing to his robust 
constitution, he outlived the disease and recovered speedily, 
after it had spent itself. In the meantime I had had letters 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


63 


from my husband saying he was to return to Yarmouth; 
would be there in the first part of December if he had a 
favorable “run across,” and wished me to be there to meet 
him on his arrival. It would be a nice opportunity to make 
the long-talked-of visit with his sisters. Would spend Christ¬ 
mas and New Year’s there while the cargo was being dis¬ 
charged, then I could return with him in the bark. I was 
to leave home in the latter part of November. 

I call to mind how very reluctant I was to go, for I should 
have to leave little Frank with his aunt. Yet how fortunate 
for me that I was not at home during that fearful winter 
and the weary waiting. Yarmouth was the birthplace of 
my husband, and also that of my mother. We had numerous 
relatives there on both sides, and I had long desired to visit 
the place; but I shrank from undertaking a journey of one 
hundred and twenty miles in an open buggy at that late 
season of the year with a six-months-old babe. Father Bur¬ 
ton had volunteered to take me as far as Bear River, and it 
was through his efforts and perseverance that I was per¬ 
suaded to go. Owing to unfavorable roads, we were four 
days making the hundred and twenty miles. And baby was 
so good, no one would have known that there was one in 
the buggy. The Reverend William Burton had traveled that 
road many times before, and had preached in various parts 
of the country, and was highly esteemed by all who knew 
him, especially those of his own denomination; so we did not 
lack for hospitable entertainment by the way, either at noons 
or at nights. 

I felt somewhat lonesome and timid too, when he handed 
baby and me in the little ferryboat, with only a boy to row us 
across the river that was eddying around the piles on which 
a suspension bridge was being built. I was to take the rest of 
my journey by stagecoach and he to drive back. At ten in 
the morning I found myself seated in the stagecoach for a 
sixty-mile drive. We traveled steadily till two o’clock at 
night, only stopping to eat dinner and supper and change 
horses. Sometimes I had the inside of the great lumbering 
coach all to myself, and sometimes one or two men took 
passage, but never a woman. The morning that was soft 
and mild for the season, turned cold and disagreeable; freez¬ 
ing hard in the afternoon, and the coach jarred and rumbled 
over the frozen ground, while the cold wind swept over, and 


64 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


whistled around us. At night a fine, frosty snowstorm set 
in. When the last passenger—except myself—got out at 
twelve o^clock at night, he let a quantity of cold air get in; 
and from that on the empty coach became very cold and 
uncomfortable. But I kept my babe warm, and was glad 
that she slept quietly through it all. It was two in the morn¬ 
ing when we reached the stage office, from which I was taken 
in an open sleigh to my husband’s sister, who had to be 
waked up to let us in the house. I was thoroughly benumbed 
with cold, and too tired almost to speak. But Sister Hannah 
and her kind husband soon had a glowing fire and some¬ 
thing hot to drink, as well as something to eat, and then 
snugged away in a warm bed, where I slept like one utterly 
exhausted until nine o’clock in the morning. Hannah had 
come and taken the baby up, kept her awhile, and brought 
her back again without my ever knowing it. 


CHAPTER 4 

T he stormy winter had now set in in good earnest. The 
creeks, rivers, and harbors became icebound; and roads 
blockaded with snow. But worst of all, the continuous gales 
of wind were adverse for my husband’s vessel, whose ar¬ 
rival was expected shortly after my own; and by the fierce¬ 
ness of the gales, and storms on the land, all knew they 
must be terrible on the ocean. The days lengthened into 
weeks, and the weeks into months, and yet no tidings from 
the absent ones. And again I passed through a season of 
anxious unrest, searching the shipping news of every avail¬ 
able newspaper to see if perchance the Wild Horse had been 
spoken; but all was silent; so I was left to quiet endurance. 
Nor was I the only captain’s wife in that town who was in 
distress of mind, on account of the prolonged absence of 
loved ones who were crossing the stormy Atlantic in the 
dead of winter. 

Although deeply distressed at times, I did not give up 
hope, but continued daily to pray for his safety and return. 
It was not so much my own prayers though that I had 
faith in, as those of my husband’s brother-in-law. Reverend 
James Stubbart. 

One morning when others had well-nigh given up hopes, 
while Mr. Stubbart was earnestly entreating the Father in 
their behalf at family prayers, a faith stole over me that 
all would be well. Nor did I entirely lose sight of it even 
when I learned by a letter from home that the owners of 
the bark had given up all hopes of ever hearing from her 
again, seeing she was old and leaky, and more than one 
stanch ship had gone down during that terrible winter. 
At length, after three months of weary waiting, a telegram 
came saying the Wild Horse had put into a small harbor 
some miles distant from Yarmouth for provisions and re¬ 
pairs, and the captain would be in Yannouth in a few days. 
Oh, the power of a few words either for joy or sorrow! 

It was during that voyage of lonely, dreary days and 
nights, while they were being almiost hopelessly driven 
hither and thither on the tempestuous sea, that my husband 
had in his deep distress of mind gone to the Lord in prayer, 
perhaps for the first time since he lisped them at his mother’s 
knee and found a comfort and consolation altogether new 


66 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


to him; and it was a new joy to me, that on his return we 
both could join in prayer of thanksgiving for our Father’s 
care over him, and that we were given to each other again. 
It used to be such a cross for me to take up alone, that I often 
left it untaken. 

On my husband’s arrival in Hantsport, he was duly con¬ 
gratulated by the owners for bringing their Wild Horse 
home again. But he left her and remained in the neighbor¬ 
hood of home during the following summer to superintend 
the building and rigging of the brigantine H. J. Burton — 
named for our little daughter Hannah Josephine—^that was 
being built for him on the Kenuttcook River, and in which 
we owned a share. 

On our return from Matamoros, we had purchased a 
building lot on which we intended at some future day to 
erect a handsome residence; the ell of which was built that 
summer, with deep gothic roof, full pediment, finished with 
heavy ornamental pieces. Two large rooms and four small 
ones, three upstairs and three down. It was a pretty little 
home, large enough for an ordinary cottage, and I loved it 
dearly, being the first home we had had of our own. But I 
locked it up when the new vessel was ready for sea, and 
with our two little children, I started on another sea voy¬ 
age. I shall never forget the first twenty-four hours out in 
the H. J. Burton. It was in the latter part of October. The 
afternoon had a dull, threatening look, and with the night 
came one of those winter northeast gales, accompanied with 
a snowstorm, making a sea that can only be known and ap¬ 
preciated (?) in the Bay of Fundy, where the tide runs 
for a premium (?). What a terrible night that was! The 
new brig was deeply loaded with plaster. The wire rigging 
all new, could not be properly adjusted until set up several 
times, consequently it became slack with the heavy rolling 
and plunging of the vessel, and so she carried away her 
fore and maintopmasts, together with the foretop, top¬ 
gallant, and royal yards. She had been rolling at such a 
fearful rate that I often thought she was on her beam 
ends, and would never “right-up” again. And when the 
spars fell with a terrible crash and shock that struck terror 
to the heart, I felt sure that we had been driven on the 
rocks or shoals that the Bay of Fundy abounds with. The 
spars fell overboard, but were held by the wire rigging, and 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


67 


the bumping and grating against the sides of the ship, to¬ 
gether with the extra commotion on deck, the captain’s 
commanding voice ringing out distinctly above all other 
noises, confirmed for a time my uncomforxable apprehen¬ 
sions. 

All was done that could be done in the darkness and- blind¬ 
ing snowstorm, to cut away the wreckage, still much that 
was attached to the foremast remained. The danger of 
approaching it in the darkness when ropes, blocks, and 
other destructive missiles were swinging and beating about, 
was too great to risk. After the spars were carried away, 
she did not roll so heavily; but the sea broke right over her 
and swept the main deck of every movable thing, and much 
that was considered immovable, such as the water casks and 
boat; both of which were thought to be securely lashed to 
heavy ringbolts. What a power the sea is when made angry 
by the winds! 

All night long the pumps had to be kept going, and it was 
feared that even that would not be sufficient to keep her 
afloat, for the tarpaulins had washed off the main hatch. 

Most of the night I was left alone to my own conjectures 
of what was going on on deck, and would have suffered more 
from the terror of the situation if I had not had the task 
of comforting and allaying the fears of little Frank, who 
was in his own little room adjoining ours, and the door 
fastened open so I could talk with him, but dared not leave 
the baby long enough to try to get him in where I was. But 
after awhile his papa came down and put him in our berth, 
so as soon as he was close to mamma he lost his fears and 
went to sleep. I managed to get both him and little Josie 
sufficiently propped with the bedclothes to keep them from 
rolling clear over, or being thrown from the berth, as I 
•was, in the early part of the night with the baby in my arms; 
after which I sat most of the time on the floor, where I could 
brace myself or hold to the side of the berth—it being near 
the floor—and mind the children. 

Occasionally the captain came in the cabin, after the spars 
had been carried away, to see how we were getting along. 
During one of those brief visits his brother, who was second 
mate, come in also and said: 

‘Tt is no use, Joe,” speaking as brother would to brother, 
‘The men are worn out at the pumps; we may as well let 


68 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


her go down first as last; the water is above the plaster in 
the hold now, and we can not expect to keep her afloat.” 

But the captain soon vetoed such a proposition as that; 
said the water that was above the plaster was what washed 
in through the main hatch. And with orders to change 
hands often, and keep the pumps agoing, he went on deck 
again. He spoke kindly and cheerfully to the men, urged 
them to be men and do their duty; that it was only cowards 
that forsook their post in time of need or danger; to hold on 
till daylight, and then there would be some change. 

“Aye, aye, sir. Well do our duty!” was the hearty re¬ 
sponse. 

What a blessed thing it is that the longest and darkest 
nights only last a certain number of hours, and then the 
day comes. And so it dawned on us. But oh, what a dis¬ 
tressed sight it revealed! Discouraging indeed to a young 
isea captain. But no oath or word of faultfinding or com¬ 
plaint was heard. The weather was moderating, and the 
sea going down fast. As much of the spars and rigging as 
remained and could be made serviceable, was hauled in, and 
the rest cast adrift. The daylight showed that the jib boom 
had gone also. Some jury masts were rigged up, and all the 
sail put on that she could command, and the captain es¬ 
sayed to put in to Portland, Maine; but could not “fetch,” 
in our disabled state, so drifted on to Boston, where we 
obtained sufficient repairs to reach New York. 

Between Boston and New York we were again blown off 
shore nearly to the Gulf Stream; but no damage done. At 
New York all necessary repairs were made, and we sailed 
from there to Lisbon, Portugal. The H. J. Burton proved 
to be a fine sea boat, and fleet on the water—her first dis¬ 
aster was owing to being overloaded before her rigging and 
sails had got properly set. 

One incident on that voyage stands out in bold relief on 
memory’s walls. It was the Christmas Day of 1865. We 
were running past a group of islands, on one of which is 
the very high point called the peak of Pico, that towers 
among the clouds. The highest point is seldom visible. But 
on this day its dark head rose to view above the fleecy 
clouds that rested against it some distance below the sum¬ 
mit. The voyage up to that time had been rough, so that 
all appreciated the clear, bright day. And all on board tried 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


69 


to partake of, and shed forth the spirit of Christmas, even 
that of “peace and good will.” 

The town of Lisbon is very ancient in style, and very 
hilly, and not.pretty. But it was to me very interesting. I 
saw many things in reality that heretofore I had only seen 
in pictures. Among them were the old-fashioned little wind¬ 
mills for grinding flour. These were stationed on almost 
every hill; and also the much abused, but very useful little 
animal that has long floppy ears—the donkey. Every day 
long trains of them would come in from the country so 
heavily laden with produce that they sometimes staggered 
beneath their burdens. I saw one fall to the ground, and it 
could not rise again till some of its burden was removed. 
Often the saddle-chair would be placed upon the already 
heavily-laden creature, and the driver would ride in the chair. 
I had in my possession at the time a picture of the place at 
the time of the notable earthquake in 1775, and saw that 
it was a fair representation of the harbor, and their Ashing 
and other small sailboats were still built and rigged in the 
same ancient style. 

On our return home, or to Halifax, the capital of Nova 
Scotia, we parted company again. I with my two children 
went home, and my husband went forth again on the track¬ 
less ocean. I thought to content myself to remain at home, 
now that Frank was old enough to go to school. And in 
many respects I was very happy, but at times the old lone¬ 
liness would come over me, then the days and weeks would 
drag wearily along, and life seemed not worth the living. 
But however slowly the wheels of time seem to move, they 
move steadily. The summer passed away and the autumn 
came, with its deep blue sky, and crisp morning air; when 
the ripened leaves on the forest trees put on their beautiful 
colors; when all nature enjoys a little season of repose and 
recuperation after the toil and heat of the summer. Such 
was the morning when the H. J. Burton came skimming over 
the waters of the Bay of Fundy. And again our home was 
made joyous and happy by the presence of husband and 
father. So happy, that for a few days its inmates could 
scarcely believe there could now be any sorrow in the world. 
In those few fleet-winged days, we forgot there was any 
more separation; purposely forgot it. Neither thought we of 
the past, nor anticipated the future; but lived in the present 


70 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


only. But the reaction came, and my very happiness mocked 
at me. The demon of loneliness whispers of the days, weeks 
and months of dreary wretchedness that hovered over my 
path when these bright hours were at an end, and I was 
alone again. And doubly dreary now, for the winter would 
be soon upon us. The thought made me shudder and sob 
convulsively, even in the midst of happiness. “Why remain 
here alone?” said the husband. “Come with me.” 

“How gladly I would go,” was the response. “But I could 
scarcely take three children! Baby Dora only three months 
old seems young to take away to sea. But most of all, 
Frank must not be kept out of school.” 

The next proposition was, “Let us take a drive down to 
your mother's, and if she is willing to take the care of little 
boy during our absence, we will make her a compensation, 
and he can go to school there, for it may be a year or more 
before I am home again.” 

Now the flush has returned to the cheek again in the 
eager, hasty preparations for a short visit at the dear, old 
home. Oh, the charm of going home! 

And the great treat of a long, pleasant drive of twenty- 
five miles; through country, towns and villages; over dykes, 
and across the famous “Grand Pre.” 

On the following morning we started early for the parental 
roof. The day was beautiful, and we enjoyed the drive with 
a childlike gleefulness, notwithstanding the conflicting 
thoughts, for I scarcely knew whether I wanted to go and 
leave Frank, even if mother was willing to take him. But 
such was the result of our visit. Frank was willing to stay, 
for he loved his grandma, and he had not altogether for¬ 
gotten that other trip down the bay. So when the vessel 
was ready for sea, his grandma came and got him. My joy 
in going forth that time was not unmixed with sorrow, at 
least until I learned through letters that he was content 
and happy. 

At Philadelphia we took in a cargo of petroleum for the 
Mediterranean, and were to call at Gibraltar for orders. 
How well I remember the keen enjoyment of that bright, 
pleasant day, when we sailed out of the roughness of the 
Atlantic, into the deep blue, placid waters of the Mediter¬ 
ranean, and came to anchor off the town of Gibraltar. I 
should like to have pressed the soil upon that rock of fame, 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


71 


but business required haste on the captain’s part, and the 
little ones required care on my part, so I feasted my eyes 
on what I could view from the ship’s deck, of the towering 
brown rock, with its town at the base, and terraced up 
against its side, nestling in green trees and foliage, and 
the formidable fort above it all; and yet those seemed to oc¬ 
cupy but a few steps in comparison to its great height. 
This is England’s stronghold upon the Mediterranean waters. 
It is said that the town is continually provided against a 
siege of many years’ duration; and also that each year the 
supplies are taken away and replaced with fresh ones. 

This call at port, brief as it was, was an exciting relaxa¬ 
tion from the monotony of sea life, and in a few hours we 
were again skimming the waters of the Mediterranean with 
heightened spirits, all sharing in the captain’s somewhat 
elated feelings on learning that Captain Coffell of the brig¬ 
antine Ptosa had not yet arrived. He towed out of Chesa¬ 
peake Bay at the same time we did, and was going to beat us 
on the passage across by several days. We were pleased, 
too, that our orders were for Naples. 

As we neared our destination, a few days later, all on 
board were—by unfailing indications—made aware that 
a severe storm was at hand; and rejoiced to see the bluffy 
headlands at the mouth of the harbor; thinking when once 
within the “placid Bay of Naples” on safe anchoring 
ground, we should not experience any inconvenience from 
the storm, since the entrance to the bay was comparatively 
narrow. And rendered more so by a heavy “breakwater” 
which extended two thirds the way across the inlet to pro¬ 
tect the harbor from the effects of the sea, when upon rare 
occasions the wind blew in the direction to drive the sea 
towards it. But we had not been there many hours before 
we became aware that the effects of the storm-troubled 
waters without were being very unpleasantly felt within. 
The sea was steadily increasing, and the shipping at anchor 
in the bay began to roll and pitch about at a frightful rate. 
And as night set in we all wished that we were far out at 
sea, where there would be no danger of coming in contact 
with the land. Or what was better (we then thought) to 
have been fortunate enough to have arrived before the storm 
set in, so that we could have been moored within the in¬ 
closed docks at one side of the harbor. 


72 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


The main street of Naples extends along the sea wall, a ad 
faces the entrance of the harbor. A reef of rocks had been 
formed by skillful engineering to extend some little way out 
from the sea wall, to protect it from the wash of the sea and 
the street from being dashed with spray in time of storm. 
But no storm like the one we witnessed was anticipated; nor 
was it probable that such a thought was ever entertained of 
a vessel being dashed to pieces upon those rocks. 

At midnight the sea had increased to such an extent, and 
the gale became so violent, the captain fearing one anchor 
would not hold, let go a second one. But its cable soon 
parted, and we were left still with one. I had retired in the 
evening, but now got up and dressed in thick, warm clothes, 
not knowing what emergency might be forced upon us. I 
also took the children up, dressed them and put them to bed 
again. And more than once called upon Him who is al¬ 
mighty, to watch over and protect us. I was reading words 
of consolation from the Bible when the -captain came down 
and said a large bark had gone ashore, and seemed to be 
breaking upon the rocks, and by the lights from the shore 
he could see that the sea was making a clean breach over 
her. After awhile he said there looked to be more than 
one. The shore was lined with lights, and people; but he 
was quite sure no aid could reach them. This cast a deep 
gloom over us, for apart from our sympathy with the perish¬ 
ing ones, we knew not who would go next. The captain then 
had the “kedge” (a small anchor) made ready, attached to 
a heavy hawser, many fathoms in length, and everything in 
readiness in case our vessel should drag her anchor, or part 
her cable—^to hoist the necessary sail and run close in shore 
at one side of the harbor, and trust to the kedge. 

The sea as it rolled in so short and high, was not only 
lifting our good little brig to the full extent of her chain 
and jerking heavily, but occasionally was breaking over 
her. And now a new thought came, “Would she bury un¬ 
der?” Oh, that terrible night! would it ever pass away? 
While the dull hours so laden with suspense were slowly 
passing on, I felt to look death square in the face, and con¬ 
sider my past life, and measure the future by it. And al¬ 
though life was precious, I did not feel afraid to die, after 
the first wave of terror and agitation had passed over me. 
I realized that I had made many mistakes in life, had trifled 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


73 


away many precious hours and opportunities; but I believed 
I had an advocate with the Father. And being wearied with 
anxiety and watching, I laid down by the children and went 
to sleep. Daylight came at last, revealing some of the havoc 
made by the storm during the night; the wind was still blow¬ 
ing hard. Two vessels had been driven ashore, and the 
breakwater at the entrance of the harbor was mostly washed 
down. During the forenoon the brigantine Ptosa came in 
and anchored perhaps a little farther from us than the 
usual distance, but immediately between us and the en¬ 
trance of the harbor, so the sea was not so heavy upon us; 
the force being somewhat broken by coming in contact with 
her before it reached us. All day the leaden clouds hung 
low and ragged, though both wind and sea went down con¬ 
siderably in the afternoon, and Captain Coffle, being a friend 
and relative, came on board. All thought that the storm had 
ispent itself, and the sea which then was much less, would 
soon run down. He had not been in the cabin more than half 
an hour when we were made aware by the motion of the ship 
that the sea was increasing again. He sprang into his boat 
at the side, where his men were in waiting, and made all 
haste back to his vessel, and yet it was a hard pull against 
the sea that came tumbling into the bay. It was so sudden 
that one might almost think the earth had given a cant 
that way, and a large portion of the Mediterranean was 
being thrown in upon us. In a little while the gale was at 
its height again, and remained so all night, the second night 
being worse than the first. Our windlass bit was broken, 
and the windlass tom out, and other damage done. 

In the early part of the evening, while reading a statement 
of the beloved disciple: “And if we know that he hears us, 
whatsoever we ask, we know that we have the petition that 
we desire of him,’^ a new faith sprung up within me, and I 
prayed to the Lord as if I was addressing some one that 
heard. And then laying hold of the promises contained in 
the word, I felt bouyed up by them, and realized that the 
Lord, or the angel of the Lord, was nigh unto us; and by his 
power we should be held and delivered; and it was even 
£ 0 . 

While viewing the wreckage after the sea and storm had 
abated again, the common expression was, “I do not know 
what could have held her.” I inwardly acknowledged it to 


74 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


have been the hand or power of God that held us, and with 
thanksgiving praised his holy name. 

During the latter part of the afternoon of that, the third 
day since the storm commenced, the portions of blue sky that 
had peeped out between the clouds and gladdened our hearts, 
began to disappear, and the somber, hazy clouds to over¬ 
spread, and the “swell” was coming in from sea again. 
Oh, how depressing it was! The captain requested me to 
make myself and children ready as soon as I could, for he 
thought it best to take us ashore, since our ship was not in 
so good condition to outride a gale as she had been. I wished 
to remain on board; saying, “If she goes to the bottom, let 
us all go together.” 

“I do not intend to go to the bottom,” was his cheery 
reply, ^‘but you will be more comfortable ashore; and if we 
are going we must be off as soon as possible.” 

So I hastily got ready, knowing if worse came to worst, 
he would have a much better chance to save himself and 
others if unencumbered by me and the children. I felt deso¬ 
late enough to cry when he bade us good-by at the hotel and 
hastened back to his ship. All were strangers, and their 
customs so unlike either England or America. But the son, 
and two daughters—^young ladies—could speak English, and 
were very kind. Still from anxiety of mind, together with 
the strange surroundings, I slept very little that night; was 
ever listening to hear the wind. 

At early dawn I arose and looked at the trees that sur¬ 
rounded the place to see if the wind was blowing hard, but 
greatly to my relief I saw that they were only swaying mod¬ 
erately. I was then ready to have a sound sleep, but in a 
little while the city was astir, and our ears not being ac¬ 
customed to that kind of a noise, the sleepy gods were 
forced to yield to the clamor. 

My husband came to the hotel a few minutes during the 
day, to let me know that all was well with them. Little else 
was talked of but the storm and its effects. The oldest in¬ 
habitants of the place had never seen anything like it. We 
learned that gallant efforts were put forth to save the lives 
of those who were driven upon the rocks. The captain of 
the bark had his wife and little boy; but all were lost. After 
this stormy introduction to serene Italy, her skies became as 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


75 


sunny as ever, and the deep blue waters of the Bay of Naples 
as placid as of yore. 

Sitting on the deck of a ship, while riding at anchor on the 
bosom of this world-renowned harbor, one might almost think 
they were in the arena of a magnificent floral amphitheater. 
The beautiful buildings, villas, and residences,—conspicuous 
among them is the king’s country residence,—with their 
ornamental trees, green lawns, and bright flowers, towering 
one above another in terrace style on the hillside that rises 
abruptly in almost semicircle shape around the harbor. 
Stretching away to the right, is Mount Vesuvius, with her 
pent-up fires continually sending forth a column of smoke 
by day and a glare of fire by night. On account of the 
quantity of fire and smoke that were belching forth at that 
time, fears were being entertained of another eruption. We 
spent one day in exploring the ruins of Pompeii. Among 
the notable sights were the petrified bodies of three per¬ 
sons—supposed to be father, mother, and daughter. Some 
portions of these bodies were smooth; but for the most part 
they had the appearance of being brought in contact with the 
melted lava, and portions of it adhering to the body making 
a rough and jagged surface scarcely distinguishable from 
a rude human form hewn out of granite rock, except where 
the bone was seen protruding from the petrified flesh. On 
the fourth finger of the left hand of the slightest of the 
three forms—and therefore supposed to be the daughter— 
was a very valuable and beautiful ring, so imbedded in the 
petrified flesh that the circle was scarcely visible; but noth¬ 
ing had adhered to the setting. The joint of the finger im¬ 
mediately above the ring was bent at right angles, and about 
one half inch of the bone was bare, and looked white and 
natural. The first joint of the finger was gone. We also 
saw the room in which they were found. It had a floor of 
inlaid marble, unique in design, composed of very small 
pieces and various colors. The ceiling and walls were of a 
glossy cement of a creamy color, with patterns on the walls, 
and colorings around the ceiling. 

But the sight of deepest interest to me, was the great 
Amphitheater, where the gladiators fought with wild beasts 
in the days of ancient Rome. “Helenias Household” was 
vivid in my memory, and I gazed upon this well-preserved 
relic of horror, with feelings of awe. I went into the dens 


76 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


where the wild beasts were kept, and from thence walked 
to the far side of the arena, and pictured myself standing 
on the very spot where the brave Claudius stood and encoun¬ 
tered and slew the lion after he had fought with and slain 
his human antagonist. The whole scene came vividly before 
the eyes of my mind, and with such I beheld the immense 
crowd that thronged the place, rising tier after tier above 
each other in a countless multitude. And the child “Mar¬ 
cus,” pleading with his father “Labeo” to rescue the brave 
gladiator who lay exhausted and bleeding upon the ground 
after vanquishing his two foes. 

So absorbed was I in this mental vision that I was not 
aware that our party was ready to move along to another 
scene, and gave a nervous start when my husband called to 
me in an amused way and asked if I was waiting for a 
combatant. 

Our native guide took us into a subterranean passage that 
had been discovered, which merged into daylight at another 
part of the city. While winding around in those dark under¬ 
ground passages, I again had mental visions of the cata¬ 
combs, and other mysterious hiding places in olden times, 
accompanied with uncomfortable apprehensions of having a 
key turned on us, and never seeing daylight again; but in 
due time we were ushered into its dazzling brilliancy. 

Naples is truly the art gallery of the world. Art, in 
sculpture, statuary, and oil paintings greets the eye at al¬ 
most every place. 

From Naples we went to Messina, Sicily. The first eve¬ 
ning out, at about eight o’clock, the captain looked down the 
companionway and called to me to come on deck and see the 
town of Rhegium (now called Reggio) where Saint Paul 
stopped on his way to Rome. I was not long in gaining the 
deck. How well I do now and ever shall remember it! The 
evening was clear and fine, the moon in its first quarter, and 
a good full-sail breeze blowing, that made my teeth chatter. 
The captain was beating his way down the straits of Mes¬ 
sina, so stood in quite near the little town,—which I infer 
has not changed very much since Saint Paul’s day, but what 
there was of it looked to be all alive with glimmering and 
sparkling lights. We had passed Syracuse—the other place 
that Saint Paul speaks of—early in the morning. How I 
wished we could drop anchor and remain at Rhegium one 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


77 


day as did the apostle, and trace his steps up the landing. 
One landing could be seen very plainly from our deck by 
its lights and steps; perhaps it was the very same place if 
not the same steps. We gazed upon this little spot of sacred 
history with awe and interest, and was sorry when the 
captain gave the order to “tack ship,” for in a few minutes 
it all was left in the distance, and shivering all over I re¬ 
turned to the cabin. 

Early next day we entered the very small, round harbor 
of Messina. While at Naples we gazed daily upon the smok¬ 
ing crater of Vesuvius, and now at Messina we could daily 
view the snow-capped Etna. One Sunday a company of us 
went over the mountain where we could look out on the sea 
on the other side of Messina and there had a good view of 
Stromboli. It is a small, round, black-looking island stand¬ 
ing abruptly in or out of the sea, much in shape of a large 
loaf cake from which both fire and smoke were issuing. 
Our stay in that port was very pleasant indeed. The bright 
days, pleasant temperature of atmosphere, feasts of nice 
fresh eggs, and most delicious oranges, pleasant drives oc¬ 
casionally, and walks in the king’s garden among the rare 
and beautiful flowers, a pleasant evening’s outing occasion¬ 
ally when we would attend the opera, all hold their place in 
memory, and as making up our visit in Messina. 

There was for me a charm, a fascination about theater 
and opera going. The rich dressing, the excitement, the 
gorgeous surroundings, gilt and glitter, and above all the 
martial music that fairly electrified me. But notwithstand¬ 
ing all of these, my early training had been such that the 
impression remained, and I never entered those places with¬ 
out a sense of wrongdoing, but quieted the inward monitor 
as best I could by affirming that I was married now, and my 
husband wished me to go. But an incident soon occurred that 
made a great change in our lives, both at sea and in port. 

From Messina we went to Baltimore, the most pleasant 
“run” we ever had across the Atlantic. No gale, no storm, 
no calm, but just a lovely breeze all the time. On our 
arrival we learned of the death of the Reverend William 
Burton, my husband’s father, which brought deep sorrow to 
my husband and sadness to me. Parents sometimes speak 
more effectually in their death than in their life, and so it 


78 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


was in this instance. While sorrowing for his loss, my 
husband realized that he could no more hear words of coun¬ 
sel from the lips that had so often counseled and admon¬ 
ished him, and he determined to act at once upon what he 
had already heard, and lead a different life. For him to 
determine was to act, and so on the ensuing Sunday he was 
baptized and united with the Fifth Baptist Church of Balti¬ 
more. He did not profess to have at that time what is called 
a “change of heart.” His was a subdued change of pur¬ 
pose. He had been brought to feel his entire dependence 
on the Lord, and to call upon him in earnest prayer during 
that terrible voyage across the Atlantic a year or two pre¬ 
vious, but had failed to obey what we then believed to be 
the commandments of the Lord, and had grown careless 
again. But now that he had publicly professed religion, he 
determined to live it too, and at once undertook the religious 
duties of asking the Father’s blessing upon us, and our food 
at mealtime, and also of reading and having prayer in the 
cabin each evening at eight o’clock. Our mate, Mr. Crowell, 
was a member of the Baptist Church also, and that was a 
help to him, and thus our new life began. 

There being no “charter” in the market for foreign ports 
that the captain would accept, he determined to go without 
delay to Windsor for a load of plaster, carrying flour enough 
for ballast, part of which was to be delivered at Hantsport 
and part at Windsor. And so on the eighth day from the 
mouth of the Delaware River we sailed up the Bay of 
Fundy and grounded on Hantsport beach about five o’clock 
in the afternoon. The H. J. Burton had been recognized 
while coming up the river and many friends and relatives 
were on the shore to greet us, our homecoming being a joy¬ 
ous surprise to all; for I had written them that we were 
going right back to Europe again. Such were indeed our 
intentions at the time of writing. 

It would take till noon the next day to discharge the flour, 
and that being the mate’s duty, we embraced the oppor¬ 
tunity to make a flying visit at home and seeing Frank; ac¬ 
cordingly a conveyance was secured the same hour of our 
arrival, and how we surprised the dear home folk about 
ten o’clock that evening! Mother had company. We knew 
that as soon as we came in sight of the house; for the 
“best room” was lighted up. The grand old house (fashioned 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


79 


up new) looked like a stately mansion that evening, with 
lights gleaming from so many windows, four in front and 
three at each side, below stairs, and it seemed to me that 
lights were shining from every window in the house both 
upstairs and down. 

Yes, mother had company; they were strangers who had 
attended the Baptist association that closed the day before 
and had come home with mother to stay over a day. A 
few moments before we entered, one of the visitors had 
taken the album from the table, and in looking over the 
photos, mother had pointed out one, saying it was her 
daughter Emma, who was then in Baltimore with her hus¬ 
band, if they had not already sailed for Europe. As she 
finished speaking there came a knock at the door. Mother 
went to the door without taking a'lamp with her, the hall 
being small was quite well lighted by leaving the front 
room door opened, which she did. The light from it would 
have shone right on our faces if we had stood close to the 
doorway. This we knew and stepped a little aside and I 
kept my veil down. We were going to make the surprise 
as much as possible. As mother opened the door she was 
confronted with two persons, a man with a valise and a 
woman with a baby in her arms who, with as much clatter 
and assumed brogue as they could manage, begged permis¬ 
sion to stay all night. Notwithstanding the foreign accent, 
there was a familiar sounding tone which only puzzled 
mother still more, and all she could say was, “Why, who are 
you?” Without heeding her question we continued to give 
our reasons for wanting to stay all night—it was late—a 
long way yet down to “Doyals” (a genuinely Irish speaking 
family about two miles below)—we were not much acquainted 
with the road, etc. From where I stood at the door I could 
see both father and George, who were in the front room. 
Father’s expression at first was that of perfect amazement 
and something of a who-can-they-be look, but at the last 
few words a smile of recognition flitted over his face. George 
had commenced to smile at our first words, which smile had 
been getting broader and deeper every moment; but he 
wanted to see how mother would get along, and when she 
said the second time, “Who are you?” he called out for us 
to come inside and let them all have a look at us. We could 


80 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


not have kept ‘Mark” any longer anyway, and so stepped 
into the light among joyous greetings from both parties. 

To see Frank was my uppermost desire, so as soon as the 
greetings were over and the wraps laid aside, I went with 
mother to his bed where he was sleeping soundly. He was 
not easily disturbed, but I kissed him till he gave signs of 
waking, then mother insisted on us leaving him till morn¬ 
ing. He was induced to get up unusually early the next 
morning by being told that some one had come to see him 
and he must be up and dressed and combed before they got 
downstairs. All were seated for the morning reading and 
prayers when I came downstairs. I had preceded his father 
a few minutes. I went over to where Frank sat, and know¬ 
ing that he was not a boy to be hugged and kissed by storm 
since possibly he might not recognize me, being absent from 
him a year, I crouched down in front of him and said, “Do 
you know me, Frankie?” He almost smiled at first, but 
suddenly became more sober than before, for he was feel¬ 
ing quite indignant at being waked before he was ready, and 
leaning away back in his chair said, “No.” When I told 
him I was his mother, and tried to kiss him, he quietly kept 
me at my distance saying, “You ain’t my mother, for my 
moither has got curls!” (I had simply combed out my hair 
and put it in a net that morning.) 

It made me feel sad to know that my boy did not recognize 
me, and brushing away the tears, I waited till after prayers 
before saying anything more. He did not recognize his 
father either, at first but did in a little while. 

After breakfast I dressed my hair in its natural way, but 
did not force myself on his notice. As soon as he saw me, 
he said to his Aunt Sophia, who stood near. “I believe that 
is my meat mother,” and came over to me with a bound. 
(We had brought from Naples our life-sized portraits in 
oil, which we left at mother’s. He called this his mother, 
and me his meat mother.) 

Our visit at home was all too short. We were obliged to 
return that same afternoon. We had brought Frank several 
nice presents, and his father dispelled the gathering mois¬ 
ture in his eyes, as we were preparing to leave by leaving a 
bright dollar in his hand. What a bound he gave when 
finding himself in possession of so much money! I can see 
him now, as though it were but yesterday. 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


81 


From Windsor we went to Philadelphia and loaded with 
petroleum for Stettin, Prussia. While at Philadelphia a 
very sad incident took place that cast a gloom over all on 
board. The cargo of plaster had been discharged and a 
deck load of wood taken on ready to go to Point Breeze for 
petroleum. The wood was to sitow it with. I had been in the 
habit of rising very early in the morning while the captain 
and children were still asleep. This morning I sat sewing 
away as usual. At six o’clock I went up the steps of the 
companionway and looked about a little, saw the mate about 
the forecastle deck, and little thought it was the last time 
I should see him alive. They were washing decks, and as 
soon as they commenced to wash the quarterdeck I went to 
the cabin again and took my sewing. Just then Robbie Bur¬ 
ton, the cabin boy and a cousin of the captain, came to the 
pantry and got a large pitcher to go ashore for milk for 
breakfast. Robbie had not much more than gained the 
deck when I was startled by a gurgling sound and a call 
for help down low against the side of the ship, and thought 
the boy had fallen between the vessel and wharf, for he was 
wont to make dangerous leaps. Instantly there was a rush 
of men across the deck. I ran to the room to call the cap¬ 
tain, feeling perfectly sure though that all would be done 
that could be for the mate was on deck; but he, the captain, 
was already hastening past me as I said, “The boy is over¬ 
board!” I followed the captain on deck, saw the boy there, 
and it seemed as if all the men were in sight, too. Some had 
jumped in the boat while others cast her off and were a 
little way.downstream waiting and looking. I asked Robbie 
what the matter was, if anybody was overboard. He said, 
“Yes, the mate; and I believe he is drowned. The wood on 
which he stood rolled while he was drawing up a bucket of 
water, or when he threw it across the deck, and he fell back¬ 
wards. He being such a good swimmer we never thought 
of his drowning, but he only came up once and sank almost 
instantly.” 

It was when he came up that he made the call. The cur¬ 
rent was running swiftly, and he was very heavily dressed 
and wore long rubber boots. I assure you there were not 
many on board that wanted breakfast that morning. Both 
boats were gotten out and the men dragged the stream till 
noon before recovering his body. All legal requirements 


82 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


were complied with. Then the body was embalmed and sent 
home to his sorrowing wife, Mrs. Crowell. 

Now I will copy a little from my jottings at the time: 

“Philadelphia, August 3, 1876.—Well, we are loaded and 
ready to start out to sea again. Here comes the tug to 
tow us down the river. What a bustle and confusion leaving 
port days are! All kinds of small stores are continually 
being sent into the cabin, and the cook can’t get time to put 
anything away, so much running and pulling and hauling to 
be done. Everybody seems to be afraid somebody’s going 
to forget something. Even the watchman picked up the 
English captain’s cat and threw it on board just as we left 
the wharf. Thought it was ours. Too late to throw it back; 
so we carry it away. Good-by, Point Breeze. Fortunately 
we have got a good breeze from the right point; hope it will 
last till we get down the Delaware. T perceive we have the 
prospects of a long passage according to the sailor’s sign 
which is a ‘list to starboard.’ I feel very gloomy, and a 
vague foreboding of evil, doubtless though that is on ac¬ 
count of losing our good mate. And my baby Dora has been 
sick, too, ever since we left home. Poor little darling, I 
hope she will be better when we get out to sea where the air 
will be more pure and wholesome and the weather cooler. 
And dear Frank is left behind again. 

“Little three-year-old Josephine keeps well and fat. Bless 
her heart, how sweet she looks standing there in the breeze 
with her long golden curls falling over her plump, dimpled 
shoulders! Our crew is not a very promising looking lot,— 
the mate is a Dane and does not seem to know much. There 
is only one man among the crew that looks strong enough to 
pull ropes.” 

In the North Sea. “Now for a few more sketches. The 
fair wind continued with us till we had gotten well across 
the Atlantic, and all went well the first week out. At the 
commencement of the second week I took sick. For the first 
three days had a fever, headache, and not strength enough 
to sit up; after which a pain in my left side set in and 
kept increasing for three days. It was terrible. The only 
relief I got was when wrapped up in a mustard poultice. 
The captain searched the medical works on board, but could 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


83 


find nothing that the symptoms would correspond with. In¬ 
deed the captain had his hands full. He scarcely got a 
minute’s rest. The weather foggy and crew not to be de¬ 
pended upon; two of them sick most of the time. Baby sick 
and very troublesome; not yet weaned, and I could not lift 
her at all. Josey kept well, still she, too, required some 
waiting on. He had the care of all these and yet seemed to 
be doing something for me all the time. 

“At the end of those three days, the captain said if I was 
any worse the next day he would put back to Halifax—we 
were then near the banks of Newfoundland. But the next 
day the pain abated some, there was certainly a change; 
but I did not know whether for better or worse. Being 
sufficiently free from pain to lie quiet and breathe easily, I 
was left to myself while the captain ate his dinner with one 
little one on his lap and the other at his side. 

“Presently a clammy coldness began to creep over me and 
increased till it felt like a death coldness. I thought of the 
worst and shuddered. I had never seen anyone with the 
ague and did not know anything about it. I looked at my 
finger nails, they had commenced to turn black and my fingers 
were white and cold as death. I was startled. For a mo¬ 
ment a dizziness swept over me. The thought of dying 
there, being buried at sea, leaving my husband and little 
ones in that forlorn condition was dreadful. But I soon 
grew calm in my mind and felt that I had nothing to fear, 
though I should not attempt to say all that passed through 
my mind during that half hour that dinner was being got¬ 
ten through with. I could not bear to make my condition 
known to the captain, so I simply waited till he came in, 
then put my cold hands in his so he could see the blood- 
settled nails, for I felt so cold I thought the breath might 
leave me at any moment. I was almost helplessly weak. 
Imagine my surprise to see something like a glad look come 
into his face, as he exclaimed, ‘Oh, I know now what is the 
matter, you have got the ague!’ He had not more than said 
the words, when a terrible shaking fit seized me. It was 
dreadful! And in my weakened state too, I seriously thought 
I was being shaken to pieces. When the paroxysm would go 
off, as it did once or twice before leaving me for the day, I 
was more dead than alive, but was soon alive again in every 
nerve and fiber of my body. 


84 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


“The next day Dora had a chill. It was pitiful to see the 
poor little creature weak and frail as she was. She con¬ 
tinued to have them every day and I every alternate day. 
Two of the men were afflicted in the same way, and the cap¬ 
tain, too, had one heavy chill and several narrow escapes. In 
the midst of all this the cook got sick. What a gloomy, dis¬ 
consolate looking and feeling crowd we were to be sure! No 
one presumed to laugh, no one felt like it. And to add to 
the distress one of the men stabbed the second mate. But 
the knife struck one of his ribs, which prevented the deed 
from being fatal. 

“Our fair wind continued till August 30. On the 31st, I 
got out on deck for the first time to see the land. We were 
near the Western, or Lewis Islands. All on board were get¬ 
ting better now. 

“Our course was north of the Orkneys, a group of islands 
at the extreme northern point of Scotland, across the North 
Sea, through the Sieve or Skager Rack, to the Skaw, thence 
down the Cattegat, out into the Baltic Sea.” 

(Later.) “I do not think anyone ever found the North 
Sea placid; go whichever way you will, you are sure to 
have a head wind and high sea. Our two weeks beat across 
confirmed all that my fancy had pictured concerning it, and 
am quite ready to believe that it will be far worse on our 
return voyage. 

“A ‘dead beat,’ as the sailors would say, of two weeks took 
us to the coast of Norway, where we came across some 
fishermen and got some fresh fish, a treat indeed for us at 
sea. Were then in the Sieve, wind still ahead. A forty-eight- 
hour beat brought us to the Skaw, the northern point of 
Denmark. But had a fair wind and pleasant run down the 
Cattegat. It was full of little vessels, as it always is. How 
I enjoyed leaving them behind us as easily, almost, as if 
they were at anchor.^ After passing out of the Cattegat 
we had another beat to Elsinore, where we anchored about 
noonday, waiting for a fair wind to get over the Grounds 
with, which fair wind came early the next morning. 

“Passed Copenhagen about noon, and a fine twenty-six- 

T am giving much of this in detail, knowing there are 
many young people who love to read stories of the sea. 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


85 


hour run took us across the Baltic to Swinemunde, where one 
leaves the ocean and sails awhile among the land. After 
entering the narrow passage to the inland harbor, we had to 
stop awhile to ‘enter’ the ship at the customhouse and get 
two customhouse officers on board before going up to Stettin. 
I was perfectly delighted with the little Prussian town of 
Swinemunde and thought it the most picturesque little place 
I had ever seen. Pretty green trees were arranged taste¬ 
fully about each place, and clean, deep green lawns. One 
expects to see well-kept lawns where there are fine resi¬ 
dences, but when such are found about every dwelling house, 
no matter how small, it attracts notice. And again instead 
of having their flower gardens in front of the house, as I 
had been accustomed to see them, they all had their smooth 
green lawn, with flowers in the windows. I scarcely saw a 
dwelling house in Prussia but all the front windows were 
filled with plants of many varieties. 

“Two hours sufficed for our stay at that time, and with a 
pilot we proceeded up the river to Stettin, a distance of 
thirty miles. In most places the river is not much wider 
than a canal, and wound in through the land, sometimes be¬ 
tween dykes and sometimes as though it was right through 
broad • pastures with tall, green grass growing on either 
side. Saw one or two vessels on the way, some ahead and 
some behind. They looked as if they might be gliding along 
through the green fields after a heavy dew; for though most 
of the hull could be seen, there was no water visible, in many 
instances, owing to the narrowness of the river, and the 
water being lower than the land. 

“As we glided sometimes leisurely and sometimes briskly 
up this artificial river, we feasted our sea-satiated eyes on 
the beautiful scenery that greeted the view from every di¬ 
rection that one chose to look. The level, green country 
dotted both near and far with small towns, villages, and 
hamlets, all in picturesque Prussian style, and mostly in 
thatched roof buildings and ornamental trees, making the 
whole appear like a huge oil painting. 

“Anon, as we rounded a bend, or merged from a small 
wooded space little clumps of houses would burst to view 
near the water’s edge, and still nearer were the commodious 
washhouses jotted at regular intervals through each of 
those miniature seaport towns. These washing houses re- 


86 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


sembled a large goods box sunken two or three feet in the 
water, leaving sufficient space above water to attach a rub¬ 
bing board. The women came with their rolls of clothes and 
scrubbed away in the clear water of the river. 

“We glide along. The sun is getting low, and now shines 
upon one of the prettiest little hamlets that fancy could 
paint, far enough back in the green field to enhance its 
beauty and obliterate defects. Four turf huts, and four or 
five low, square, frame buildings with their respective white 
barns, all having heavy thatched roofs as green as the fields 
about them, are scattered about in the prettiest, coziest 
manner possible. Most of the frame buildings are white; 
the largest is laid off in squares, by broad, green bars. How 
queer it looks! Another is pinkish color with tiled roof with 
a foot or more of green hedge just below the eaves.'^ How 
odd, and yet how tasty! These, together with ornamental 
trees large and small and the jagged mountain that rose at 
a little distance beyond as a background, complete this mas¬ 
terpiece among the succession of natural pictures that have 
delighted our eyes during the whole afternoon. 

“About half way up the scenery changes; the land is 
more barren, rocky, * and uneven. Now the eye rests upon 
a large lake whose waters are shimmering in the sunlight 
like liquid silver. This lake is about three miles wide. We 
enter and drop anchor for the night.’’ 

Next morning a fine breeze was blowing and we entered 
Stettin before noon. Stettin is an old city, and like most 
other old cities in the Far East, its streets are narrow and 
dirty; its buildings are high, narrow, and smoke-begrimed. 
A day’s drive in the country away from the din and noise, 
where one could breathe the pure, fresh air, was spent with 
keen enjoyment. The roads were broad, smooth, and hard, 
with shade trees on either side for miles. No county fences 
or fences of any kind, to be seen, except here and there a 
hedge. Here we had opportunity to view more closely the 
eave-hedges. Trees of neat green foliage (neither cypress 
nor boxwood) were cultivated in an even row around the 
house, and trimmed to a pole up above the windows; then 
let grow to a neat square hedge around the house. And we 

^The German people trim their trees to make the hedge 
at any distance from the ground they wish. v . 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


87 


also discovered that the city of the dead was more beautiful 
that that of the living. 

When the cargo was discharged and ballast taken in we 
proceeded by way of Swinemunde to Dantzic, on the coast 
of Prussia. Dantzic is the oldest city in Prussia and an¬ 
swers well in construction to that of ancient Rome. Build¬ 
ings are high and narrow, with deep projecting tiled roofs, 
heavy cobblestoned streets, dark and narrow,—mere alleys. 

We learned of the ancient relics that were kept in Saint 
Mary’s church, and upon an early opportunity secured an 
interpreter, the ship chandler, and thither wended our way. 

This church building, we were told, had been standing up¬ 
wards of five hundred years. It was built in the shape of a 
cross, and covered an entire city block. And though it has 
not been used for a place of worship from time immemorial, 
it is well kept and visited oft by the curious. The keeper 
not being at home, his wife, a middle-aged lady, conducted 
us through the various departments, almost every one of 
which contained something of historical note. Had I en¬ 
tertained the thought of ever reproducing those sights in 
pen-pictures for the public, I should have endeavored to se¬ 
cure more particulars concerning many things spoken of, 
and dates of their enactment. But as it is I can only give 
the reader a few brief sketches that I noted down at the time 
by way of refreshing my memory when I should want to re¬ 
late it to our own home folks. 

After inspecting a few objects of minor interest, we were 
conducted to the most famous oil painting in Prussia. Our 
guide unlocked and opened two doors against the wall that 
fitted closely together when shut, but when thrown open 
and fastened back formed a part of, and revealed a picture 
double their size. The design was that of the final judgment 
day. In the main body of the picture over which the two 
doors folded, stood the Angel Gabriel in knee-breeches, a 
golden girdle and scarf about his waist, with a huge pair of 
balances in one hand and a roll in the other. All about, and 
in front of him seemed to be a level place where numbers of 
people were standing waiting their turn to be weighed in the 
balance. Many graves were open and some were yet in 
them standing, resting their folded arms on the earth, look¬ 
ing about them, with a most astonished expression upon 
their faces. There were two already in the act of being 


88 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


weighed, the one on the right was kneeling and brought 
the balance well down, while the one on the left was found 
wanting and devils were dancing about this one in high 
glee, with pitchforks in hand. The largest one of the cloven¬ 
footed host had his three-tined fork drawn ready to pitch 
the piteous-looking unfortunate one off the scale into the lake 
of fire represented on the left wing of the picture, and into 
which some were in the act of falling; while those on the 
right were passing up a steep, bright path or stairway that 
led to the shining- city, at the entrance of which stood the 
venerable Peter with his huge bundle of keys about his waist. 
Though the design was painted from a distorted human im¬ 
agination, not so visible to us then as now,—the painting was 
perfect. So vivid, so lifelike, that one fancied he heard the 
demoniacal laugh, the groans and cries of those writhing 
bodies, mingled with the seething and gurgling of the lurid 
flames and smoke that issued from the bottomless pit. 

The Prussians claim that the picture was painted by in- 
piration, and is regarded by them in much the same light 
that the sacred vessels of the temple were by the Jews. We 
were informed that they were offered quite a handsome for¬ 
tune for it by the Emperor of France, but nothing would 
induce them to part with it. At one time when France was 
at war with Prussia, it was seized, together with many 
other treasures and taken to Paris. But when they regained 
their independence (during a second war I think), they de¬ 
manded the painting, got it back and replaced it in the 
church. 

With nerves all attune, being yet in the days of our 
spiritual darkness, I almost sprang backward as we en¬ 
tered a poorly-lighted room where close to the door sat on 
a large stone, the life-sized statue of the Virgin Mary, sup¬ 
porting across her lap the upper part of the body of Jesus 
just as he was taken from the cross. Both figures were 
brownstone sculptures. Yet the agonized look of his counte¬ 
nance, the blood trickling from his thorn-pierced brow, and 
from the ghastly wound in his side, as well as from the torn 
hands and feet! also the sorrowing mother bending over her 
son with an expression of deepest grief depicted upon her 
in appearance and produced a sacred solemnity. 

From thence we were conducted to the altar. As we faced 
that portion of the building a heavy projection jutted oust- 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


89 


from the wall, that I thought might be a pipe organ encased. 
About two and a half feet in front of this projection, the 
floor was carpeted with the richest green silk plush. This 
space was inclosed by a railing, the top of which was four or 
five inches wide and beautifully upholstered with the same 
material. Within this inclosure the guide said no foot had 
ever stepped. It was considered holy. 

About a foot lower, coming backwards from the wall, was 
a broad semicircle platform with an outer railing, both covered 
with scarlet plush. Two steps down from this was the main 
floor of the building. It was around this outer railing that 
the communicants knelt and received the “wafer” on their 
tongues when the building was used to worship in. Yet 
neither the carpet nor the upholstering showed any signs 
of having been worn. 

Our guide went within the outer railing, crossed the scar¬ 
let-covered floor, leaned over the inner railing and unlatched 
the folding doors of what I thought was a pipe organ. And 
throwing open the doors revealed to our gaze a rare piece of 
workmanship upon which I gazed with a feeling of awe, 
more intense than yet before. I had just looked upon the 
scene of the judgment day, and the body of our Lord as it 
was taken from the cross, and now here was the Father, Son, 
and Virgin Mother in glory. Immediately in front sat the 
Virgin Mary, with the Father on the right and the Son on 
her left. These figures were life size, were made of fine 
brass that had the appearance of gold and would be trans¬ 
formed into a blaze of splendor (having so much of the same 
metal above, and all about them in figures that I could not 
begin to describe), when the reflection of the lamps or the 
sunlight was cast upon it. I was filled with awe because I 
had never before beheld anything that was designed to rep¬ 
resent the form of God, and I almost feared to look upon 
it. As I glanced from one face to the other, I murmured, 
“The express image of his father’s person.” How exact the 
likeness was here represented; the broad forehead, the rich, 
heavy beard, and the flowing, curling hair. All the difference 
being that of age, the beard being a little heavier and the 
tender, compassionate look more matured. 

Back of these figures, and so placed that one instinctively 
felt to be viewing it through the dimness of time, was the 
scene of the Savior’s birthplace. And high above were clus- 


90 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


ters of cherub faces looking down upon the infant Jesus. 
Many other scenes were also represented within this incase¬ 
ment. 

Our lady guide said, “When these doors were thrown open 
in times when the Catholics held their services in the build¬ 
ing, the devoted worshipers would all fall upon their faces 
and remain so till they were closed again.” 

The next department to which we were conducted was the 
room where the ancient garments were kept. Here our 
thoughts suddenly turned back to the tabernacle in the wil¬ 
derness. Here were priestly garments which seemed to have 
been made after or in imitation of those made for Aaron 
and Eleazer. They were made of a superior quality of ma¬ 
terial to what we have in these days of scarlet and purple 
silk velvet. They were white satin and white linen upon 
which time seemed to have no effect. The linen robes, which 
were smaller than those of scarlet and purple velvet, were 
almost entirely covered with embroidery, such as is not 
thought of in our day. And as I took one of those deep¬ 
flowing robes in my hands, felt the weight, examined the 
beautiful work around the border or hem, of most delicately 
shaped flowers and leaves, wrought in hard-twisted, rich- 
colored silk and threads of gold, I lost sight of the lapse 
of time and looked upon them as having been the very same 
as worn by the Israelitish priests, and more especially when 
shown the heavy linen scarf or waist girdle drawn in a sort 
of a roll just as if one of the high priests had taken it off 
and left it with the creases drawn by winding it about his 
waist. There were two of them. We were astonished at 
their weight. The linen, especially the two scarfs, had be¬ 
come somewhat yellowed with age, and also the white satin; 
but the other robes were not faded, neither showed any 
signs of moth or rust. Our guide could not give any infor¬ 
mation concerning their origin, how they came there, by 
whom they were worn, or upon what occasion. It was sup¬ 
posed that they were worn at some time by Catholic priests, 
but not within the knowledge of any of the living inhabit¬ 
ants of Dantzic. The tradition was that they had been in 
the church just as we saw them for five hundred years. 
Yet the garments plainly showed they had been in use at 
some time. 

I have only spoken of a very few of the objects and relict' 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


91 


of the past that we beheld while going through that great 
building. When all had been gone through, we stepped into 
an office where was desk, pen and ink, and a very large time- 
yellowed book in which all visitors entered their names. We 
registered ours also, and after depositing a generous fee 
in the hand of the lady for her courtesy, bowed ourselves 
out. 

In noting customs, I saw that the Prussian men, who were 
large, strong, wholesome-looking men, walked the streets 
empty-handed, while the women, who were mere drudges, 
staggered beneath the heavy burdens they were forced to 
carry. A man considered it a shame to him (so we were 
told by our carpenter) to take the burden even from his 
wife, or any part of it and carry it himself, and yet we 
found them more kind and social than in any port among 
the English or Americans. 

While at Dantzic, a gentleman from a house near by would 
come in the mornings and get little Josie and take her on 
shore to play with his little girl. Though neither could speak 
the other’s language, they made themselves understood suf¬ 
ficiently to make the day enjoyable, and at night when she 
would be brought back, accompanied with a bottle of milk, 
or a new doll, she would say, ^‘Oh, mamma, my’s had suth 
a nith time!” and surprised me more than once by going 
over a lingo to me that I could not understand, whether 
she did or not is not known. 

When in Swinemunde, though only a few hours, the wife 
of one of the business men whom I had never met, sent me a 
large loaf of cake, freshly baked and frosted beautifully. 
They called it a “sandapper.” 

When we started out to sea again it was with a new and 
stalwart crew of Prussians. Every preparation was made 
for a hard voyage. It was already November, and crossing 
the North Sea in December is not a desirable trip. The wind 
and weather was fair till we got near Bornholm, an island 
in the Baltic Sea; then it was contrary and not enough of 
it to offset the current which always runs strong near land. 
So the captain concluded to run in the harbor till the fog 
lifted and wind became fair. The northern side of this island 
when close to it lies in something the shape of a huge horse¬ 
shoe, with a smooth sandy beach around the bow-like shore, 


92 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


but very rocky at both points, especially the extreme north¬ 
ern point. 

It was about noon when the order was given to “let go the 
anchor.” If my readers have ever been on board a ship 
that had a quarter-deck, they would know that the house is 
about three feet above the quarter-deck, according to ^ the 
size of the ship. To enter the cabin one opens a solid little 
door of the same height, pushes back a slide that covers 
the top of the doorway and goes down three or four steps. 
At the foot of these steps was the mate’s room on the right 
and the pantry on the left, which gave a hall whose length 
was the width of those two doors, then the door opened into 
the cabin. At sea the door between the cabin and forward 
companionway is always hooked back, that is opened, and the 
slide pushed back when it does not rain or there is no dan¬ 
ger of shipping a sea. So when the duties of the captain 
required him to be on deck, I used to go upon the steps every 
little while, and without opening the door, could look about 
and see what was going on; have a little-chat with the cap¬ 
tain, and at the same time could hear the children if any¬ 
thing went wrong with them. So now when I heard the 
chain paying out, I ran upon the steps, and took a look 
around. The captain often used to call me his “almanac,” 
because I judged—^or guessed—the weather so well, a quality 
that I inherited from my father who was a “coaster” and 
had learned the signs of the weather so well that he never 
needed a barometer at sea. And now as I stood scanning the 
horizon the captain said: “Well, almanac, what do you 
think of the weather?” 

I pointed north where the sea and the fog met and which 
had a greenish yellow look, and said, “I don’t like the looks 
of that.” 

“Oh,” said the captain cheerily, “that is nothing but the 
sun shining on the fog. If the wind comes from there it will 
be all right, for we can make a fair wind of it.” 

“Yes,” I replied, “if it doesn’t come too hard.” 

Eight bells was sounded, but the mate gave orders to the 
men to furl the sails before going below, and told the steward 
not to bring on the dinner till she was snugged away. It 
took an hour. Our German mate was very particular to 
have every sail furled and stowed in the most secure manner 
and decks cleared before letting the men go below. This 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


93 


time they were too secure by far. When all was done up, 
the captain, mate, and myself took a sweeping glance around 
the horizon. There was no change, except that the yellowish- 
looking place in the north had shut down and looked as som¬ 
ber as the rest. My husband was a very slender man at that 
time and an unusually small eater; so before the rest were 
half through he had finished his dinner and went on deck. 
He had no more than gained the deck, though, when the com¬ 
mand rang out in his most imperative tone, “All hands on 
deck!” 

What a scurrying there was! The mate, whose place at 
the table was hard to leave till the second mate had left, 
fairly tramped over the second mate lest he should gain the 
deck before him, feeling it a dishonor to him if he was not 
the first one on deck when a call like that was made. I fol¬ 
lowed in the rear to the steps as soon as I could without 
being in anybody’s way, to see what was the matter. I had 
learned to let my eyes serve me at such times, and not ask 
questions. Surely not more than ten minutes had elapsed 
since we had gone down to dinner, but what a change! It 
was all clear in the north now. Where the sky and waters 
met, the sea looked as if it was lashed to a foam and the 
roar of the wind could plainly be heard. On and on came 
the gale, tumbling the sea before it. Orders had been given 
and executed in quick succession, though without confusion. 
The men did not have to be told to work lively, for they 
knew their lives depended largely on their own acts. Four 
were at the windlass doing their best to get the anchor up; 
the rest were sent up to loose and close reef the upper top¬ 
sail (our vessel carried double topsail yards), while the 
mate and steward set the mainstaysail, and the captain put 
ithe helm down and brought her head up to the wind just as 
the gale struck her. She trembled for a little and seemed 
held down against the water spellbound, and then as if trying 
to free herself from its power she rolled back and forth, 
tugging and jerking at the cable like a frightened pony. 
The mainstaysail being set, the wheel was lashed to keep 
her head to the wind and if possible to keep her from drag¬ 
ging inshore till the anchor could be gotten up and as much 
sail as she could bear up under to run out to sea. The cap¬ 
tain was bearing a lively hand with the rest. While trying 
to set the topsail it filled and split clear across, and the main- 


94 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


sail in the same way, after being close-reefed, however they 
made it fast so as to make use of the portion that was left. 
The mainstaysail proved to be too strong for the wind to 
split, but the traveling bar was torn out and bent back like a 
knitting needle. 

While this was going on the scene and noise were terrify¬ 
ing. The roaring of the gale, whistling and screaming of 
the wind through the rigging, lashing of the sea, flapping and 
jerking of the loose sails, together with the knocking and 
pounding of the ropes and blocks and the mate shouting 
orders to the men aloft; while their voices and to us unin¬ 
telligible words mingled with the gale had only the sound 
of a cry of distress. But notwithstanding all their efforts, 
the good little ship was fast dragging in towards the shore, 
and the captain saw that it was impossible to get the anchor, 
if he would save the ship and the lives therein. So soon as 
there could be sail enough secured to get headway on her, 
he gave the orders to slip the cable, and lying her close to the 
wind, started on a run for life or death. Having dragged in¬ 
shore some, and being disabled considerably in sail, it was 
yet a question if she would weather the rocky point just 
ahead over which the breakers were flying mast high. It was 
an anxious time to all. I could not bear to stay below but 
a few moments at a time. And to add to the distress both 
the children began to cry, even little Josie seemed to know 
that all was not right,—though she had heard them getting 
under way in a hurry many times,—and asked what was 
making that noise. I was too weak and terror-stricken to 
hold either of them, so fixed them a place on the couch on 
the lee side where they would not fall off, then looked about 
for something to keep them quiet. The steward had a pan 
of dough in the cabin to raise, I broke off a good piece and 
gave to each of them, and that amused them the best of 
anything; for as they pulled it off one hand it stuck to the 
other. 

For a few moments during that perilous run, I lost all 
courage and my head grew dizzy with a terrible fear that 
overpowered me, when I thought of the probability of those 
little ones being swept from us or all dashed upon the rocks 
together. But in a moment or two I recovered myself again, 
and said firmly, “This will never do! If we are driven on 
the rocks our chances are small enough with all the coolness 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


95 


and courage that can be brought into action. I will at least 
appear brave and do what I can to the last.” This resolution 
gave me fresh strength, and knowing we must then be 
pretty near the rocks, I put on as cheery a look as I could, 
and mounted the steps again to take another look. The cap¬ 
tain smiled pleasantly as he came toward me and said, “If 
we go ashore here Emma, you must not be frightened.” 

I answered in the same tone, “Well, I shall be frightened! 
so you needn’t go ashore.” 

The good brig was conducting herself well, and dashing- 
through the seething waters as though making all speed to 
get past that ugly point. The people of the island evidently 
saw our danger and came down to the shore in crowds. Now 
her bow was in line with the breakers! The succeeding mo¬ 
ments were passed in almost breathless suspense. The only 
words spoken was a caution given by the captain to the men 
at the wheel, “Mind your helm! Keep her steady!” How 
like a human being she appeared as she leaped into the foam 
that recedes after a sea breaks. The mad waves came rush¬ 
ing on with all the fury of premeditated destruction. I held 
my breath in a terrible suspense! Would it break over her 
and impede her headway and thus cause her to drift lee¬ 
ward? If so our chance was gone; and again, would that 
weakened mainsail hold a few moments longer beneath such 
a pressure ? Another moment, and she raised her proud prow 
with the great sea that came rolling onward, and mounting 
the very crest of that mighty wave crushed it beneath her; 
and as it rushed from under her she rolled slightly to wind¬ 
ward with a swing of her bow rose once again and plunged 
forward beyond the danger into the open sea. 

“Good!” said the mate, and all rejoiced together because 
of our deliverance. But now that the immediate danger was 
over and our joy spent itself a little, all began to think of 
our disabled condition. The gale was steadily increasing, 
and the sea too. The sails that were most needed in a storm 
were torn up, and to undertake to go to Liverpool without an 
anchor would be running too great a risk. So she was put 
under short sail and turned back to Swinemunde for repairs. 

Such was the introduction to our winter passage home. 
And being thus detained would put us still farther into the 
winter months. All went well, however, till we reached the 
North Sea, then it was one succession of gales. It was not 


96 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


really daylight till eleven a. m., and commenced to get dark 
again at three p. m. Round and round the compass we were 
driven for ten days steady in one gale. The greater part of 
the time we were lying to, with ropes all iced over. Ice 
everywhere. 

“Oh, dear!” I would say, “if ever I get home again I hope 
I will have sense enough to stay there!” Then again I used 
to be glad I was with my husband. We could at least be 
“partners in distress.” No accident happened, however. The 
H. J. Burton was a worthy sea boat and we arrived in Liver¬ 
pool on January 12, 1878. 


CHAPTER 5 

O UR next port of destination was Cette, a seaport town in 
France. Does the reader wish to see the ocean billows 
mountains high? If so, cross the Bay of Biscay in the early 
spring. But oh, what a change to sail in a single day from 
that water-hill country to the coast of Portugal, with air 
so balmy, and sunshine so delicious, and be borne gently along 
on the even tide towards the deep blue waters of the Medi¬ 
terranean, where the dangers of the stormy English Channel, 
and the terrors of the Bay of Biscay are soon forgotten. As 
we sail leisurely around the famous rock of Gibraltar, it 
takes on another shape and another color from that presented 
on the inhabited side. It is barren, precipitous, and is of a 
light-yellowish hue. 

Cette was a musty little old French town, with nothing of 
interest about it, where claret wine is used as a substitute 
for nourishing food; and should you go to market for butter, 
you would be treated to that made from goat’s milk, and that 
too void of salt. All were glad when we again set sail for 
Messina, and from thence to Licata, another port in Sicily. 

It was now just one year since we had left our boy, and the 
time seemed long. But no home charter offered, so we were 
again sent to a foreign port—to Bremerhaven. Sulphur was 
our cargo, so all boarded ashore while the vessel was being 
unloaded. Here were low lands, dykes, and stagnant water, 
—a very hotbed for fever and ague; and the dread malady 
seized upon us again. Every alternate day I was prostrate 
beneath its power, as was also the captain from time to time; 
and little Dora, too. By the use of powerful medicine the 
chills were soon broken up; but I was left almost entirely 
deaf. 

What a change! How silent the world suddenly became! 
That one of God’s gifts to man had been alert with me up to 
this last voyage. Whether it was the disorder or the medi¬ 
cine that caused the deafness, I know not; nor had I any 
thought then that it would remain through all these years. 
But notwithstanding my alternate shaky day—that left such 
a miserable dead-and-alive feeling in its wake for awhile—I 
enjoyed myself quite well in that port; made some very pleas¬ 
ant acquaintances, among whom were the American consul’s 
wife, an American lady. With her I spent the greater part 


98 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


of my time when not sick. Besides, there were three Nova 
Scotian captains in the same poi't—Beckwith, Brown, and 
Johnson. Captain Beckwith was from our immediate neigh¬ 
borhood, and had been an intimate friend of my father’s 
family since before I could remember; and was esteemed by 
all who knew him. Captain Brown was from Yarmouth, and 
a friend of my husband’s family. While Captain Johnson 
was a far younger man, not a former acquaintance at all, 
still he knew people and places that we did; and that, in a 
foreign port, is about the same as being a relative. 

After the cargo was discharged, and the ship thoroughly 
cleansed, we moved back on board again and went to a quiet 
little nook to load. And now that we had got home again, the 
captain took up our evening worship at eight o’clock as here¬ 
tofore. Both Captain Beckwith and Captain Brown were pre¬ 
eminently Christian men, and all of the same denomination. 
And from the first evening we were there, those three cap¬ 
tains came on board as regularly as they ate their evening 
meals, and many very pleasant and profitable evenings were 
spent. Sometimes we had quite a little meeting, more than one 
uniting in prayer; then we would sing some of the good old 
home tunes. At other times we searched the Scriptures and 
reasoned on doctrine, and again, social conversation. 

It was here I learned the hymn, “Sweet hour of prayer,” 
learned it from old Captain Beckwith. He said, “Now I want 
you to think of me whenever you sing that tune.” And for 
years after to remember Captain Beckwith and what he said 
was to me much a part of that hymn as to strike the first 
note. They would sometimes say, “I hope you won’t get tired 
of having us coming here. This cabin is so homelike; the 
small rocking chair, the wife, and little ones with their dolls 
and playthings. It does not seem like a ship’s cabin at all, 
but like a home sitting room, and it makes one almost forget 
he is at sea.” 

“I am not a religious man,” said Captain Johnson, “but I 
had rather come here and hear you folks talk than go to a 
theater.” And I doubt if ever those men, or ourselves either, 
will lose sight of that visit in Bremerhaven. 

It was then the month of April, and on the twentieth of the 
next month would be my birthday; and we would be far out 
at sea. So my husband planned a surprise for me. Knowing 
my weakness for blue, he determined to get me a blue dress. 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


99 


Took the other captains with him and selected a blue rep 
silk—it was handsome—and with their aid smuggled it on 
board. Captain Johnson kept the parcel, so if I should be 
where I saw them before they got it put away, he was in¬ 
structed to keep it with him as though it was his own. The 
captain came into the cabin and passed immediately into our 
room and closed the door after him. While in there Captain 
Johnson passed the parcel through the window, and it was 
locked in the bureau drawer. That he passed through the 
cabin hurriedly was nothing unusual, but I wondered why he 
shut the door, since he had to reach up and unhook it. When 
he came out I said, “What mischief are you up to now, that 
you had to shut the door after you?” And anyone who 
knew him will not doubt that he had an answer for me that 
would throw me entirely olf the track. 

To our great joy we were chartered from Bremerhaven to 
Philadelphia. We had a fine run across the Atlantic, and on 
the way I enjoyed my birthday present just as much as I 
could, and looked at it every day for a week; fancying how 
grand I would look, some day, in my beautiful new silk. My 
plans were now laid for a visit at home; but I tarried after 
our arrival, thinking our vessel would be sent to Windsor. 
The captain felt very hopeful for a time of such being the 
case; and day after day awaited the decision of the consignees. 

I had never traveled alone, and much dreaded going with no 
one to help me with the children or hand luggage, in chang- - 
ing from boat to cars, as we would have to do twice on the 
passage. Day after day I waited, hoping to learn our desti¬ 
nation. 

The past two years that I had been at sea had been spent 
in supreme earthly happiness. True, we had passed through 
many heavy storms, with their consequent anxieties. But 
with a trustworthy ship, a courageous and undaunted cap¬ 
tain, in whom I and everybody on board reposed implicit 
confidence, we could cheerfully outride the storms of the sea, 
for there were none within our own hearts. No unkind words 
passed between us in those two years. No misunderstandings 
blotted their bright pages. And now the thoughts of our 
separation made us both feel sad. And on my husband’s part 
not the separation from me only, but from the children too, of 
whom he was very fond, never seeming to tire of caring for 
and amusing them. Little Josey was his constant companion 


100 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


both below and on deck, too, when the weather would per¬ 
mit; and when it would not permit, how restless she would 
get if her papa was on deck long at a time, and would beg of 
me to let her call him down; and many times during those two 
years did she climb up the steps of the companionway—while 
the ship rolled and plunged—and clinging to the door with 
just her little head above, call “Papa! Mamma wants you!” 
And the papa never failed to come, bringing his pet along 
with him. But those two years of playday as it were, were 
about ended, and a gloom had hovered over me ever since our 
arrival. That foreshadowing of coming events, which is some¬ 
times so depressing, I could not shake it off. Even in my 
dreams I was surrounded with difficulties on every hand. 
But, ah me! if I had known how much of sorrow and suffer¬ 
ing was in store for me and my little ones in the near 
future, my courage would indeed have failed. 

At length when a week had passed away, and my difficulties 
were not at all removed by the hope of the vessel going home, 
I resolved not to wait any longer, and had this day I now 
write of commenced to pack my trunks, select what books I 
wanted to take home, and arrange the captain’s clothes in the 
bureau drawers; all of which was a sad task. His very clothes 
looked lonesome when left by themselves; and I closed the 
drawers over many tears that had fallen on them, wondering 
when I should again have the privilege of folding away his 
clothes. 

That evening after he had returned from business, and the 
children were asleep, I drew a stool up in front of where he 
was sitting, so I could rest my arm—or my head either—on 
his lap, to have a talk and arrange matters for my homeward 
journey. After telling him what I had decided on and what 
I had accomplished during the day of preparations, the dark 
clouds began to gather again. “Oh, Jobie!” I said, with tears 
standing in my eyes, “I can not tell you how much I dread 
this journey. It looms up before me like a cloud of darkness 
whenever I think of it, and I often grow weak with that 
vague, immaterialized feeling of coming evil or difficulty. My 
dreams have been as depressing as my wakeful hours. For 
two or three nights now in my dreams I have been trying to 
climb the same hill, weary and alone; climbing and slipping 
back. Again I would be at the foot of it, exhausted, needing 
help, but no help was there; and there was the hill yet that 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


101 


I must get over. I feel as if I should sicken and die on the 
journey home, for I never got to the top of the hill.” 

While I thus talked, he had been rolling curl after curl over 
his finger, and letting them fall again. But now when I had 
sobbed out the last few words, he raised my head to its own 
place on his bosom, and tried with gentle words, and passing 
his hand soothingly over my forehead and face, to dispel my 
glo'om and reassure me, said: “Don’t, darling! Don’t cry so! 
There is no need to feel so distressed. It is only because you 
are tired, and the thoughts of our separation of course makes 
us both feel sad. You have six weeks yet, you know, to call 
your own; and it will only take five days to go home. Then 
your mother will come to see you, and bring Frankie, and 
you will be all right as soon as you get settled and rested. I 
would feel better myself if I could only go with you and see 
you safely home; but I could not leave the vessel so long.” 

After a moment’s pause, he spoke of how pleased Frank 
would be to see us again, and that he must get something nice 
to send him, and wondered what he would like. How well he 
knew how, and in what direction to turn the current of 
thought. Then we talked of and arranged our plans for both 
preparations, and when to start home. I had passed my Geth- 
semane, and rose up strengthened. Next day was indeed a 
busy day, packing trunks and valises, in fact doing a little of 
almost every kind of work—for I had scarcely planned on 
making the journey in any other way but in the vessel—and 
oh, how much waiting on the children seemed to require that 
day! It was late in the evening when all was completed, and 
the children’s clothes in little fluffy mounds on each end of the 
lounge ready for dressing them in the morning, and I was 
very, very tired. 

We were to leave the vessel in time to cross the ferry, and 
take the lightning express at eight o’clock in the morning 
for New York. My husband was going to accompany us to 
New York and see us safely on board the Long Island Sound 
steamer, on which we would go to Rhode Island, thence to 
Boston on the cars in the nighttime. There we would take 
steamer again to Saint Johns, New Brunswick, and change 
again to a far smaller boat for Windsor. Is it any wonder 
that I dreaded such a trip with two small children, no com¬ 
panion, and almost deaf? 

During the day, though, the captain had learned that a 


102 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


young man from our neighborhood—who was then in Phila¬ 
delphia—intended to return home soon. He had sought and 
found him, and offered to pay his passage home if he would 
go with me. The young man refused the proffered fare; 
but said if he could arrange his business so as to leave so 
soon, he would go. While on the ferryboat, waiting for the 
time to start, he came on board just at the last minute, and 
we grasped his hand cordially, feeling indeed to thank God 
and take courage. Of the fatigue of the ride to New York, 
of repeatedly climbing several flights of stairs at the hotel, 
of a long ride on the horse-car where there was such a crowd 
that I had to stand awhile, I scarcely need speak. 

The steamer Old Colony would leave the pier at seven 
o’clock in the evening, but we went on board early so as to 
get things snugged away before the crowd began to gather. 
Our rooms were immediately off the saloon (a steamboat’s 
parlor), and everything was very comfortable and even luxur¬ 
ious. No mode of traveling can surpass that on Long Island 
Sound for elegance and comfort. Yet my heart sank within 
me like lead when the captain bade us good-by. But I was 
determined not to let the flood gates break loose again, and 
choked them back. 

Before leaving the boat he said, “I shall not go back to 
Philadelphia to-morrow, since it will be Sunday. I hear your 
father is in New York, so I will visit with him to-morrow, 
and go back on the early train on Monday morning.” 

How fortunate that he told me that! After the children 
were put to bed, I found the soft, easy chairs in the saloon so 
much more restful than the berths on the side of the ship, 
that I sat there long after everyone else had left it. While 
sitting there alone, a terrible truth dawned upon me. My 
head swam from very terror. “What shall I do ? What shall 
I do? 0, my God, be merciful! let not my fears come to 
pass!” was the cry of my very soul. 

I took up a newspaper and tried to read; tried to forget 
myself; forget the horrible nightmare that was pursuing me; 
to feel that I was a self-contented passenger, like all the rest 
on board the boat. Then I almost laughed at my own fears. 
But in a short time they were confirmed without a doubt. 
Numbed, paralyzed with constemaition and my forlorn condi¬ 
tion that exceeded my worst fears, I knew not what to do, 
and sat there in mute despair for something like an hour try- 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


103 


ing to think. At length I became sensible to the fact that I 
could not keep my trouble to myself, and the sooner I had 
some one to counsel with the better. But how was I to find 
anyone? The stewardess never came to the saloon unless es¬ 
pecially summoned, but where was she? or how could I find 
her? On raising my eyes I saw the words, “Pull the bell 
cord.” I did so; and soon the stewardess, a fat, good-natured 
looking colored woman, presented herself. “Well, well, 
dearie!” she said, after I had talked with her awhile; “don’t 
feel so badly about it; we will do what we can for you, poor 
thing; and it won’t be de first time de like has happened in 
dis boat, eider. I’se waited on three afore you.” How true 
it is that “misery loves company.” She could not have said 
anything much more comforting to me just then, than that 
I had been preceded by others in like misfortune, and real 
ladies, too. 

I at once secured another, a larger and more comfortable 
room in the forward part of the boat, where, just before mid¬ 
night, when off Little Gull Rock, I was joined by a new pas¬ 
senger, who shared the room with me. She was a tiny little 
lady that would not have weighed more than five pounds. A 
“little gull” the stewardess said, had flown on board on this 
evening of September 19, 1868. And in honor of her presence 
I abandoned my purpose of going on to Nova Scotia, and re¬ 
mained in the steamer, and returned with her to New York on 
the following Tuesday morning. I was assisted in reaching 
this conclusion by Doctor Mott Francis—a gentleman whom 
I had never met before but to whom I am indebted for great 
kindness, and whose presence on board the boat was not known 
till she reached her destination; who, upon learning that 
there was a sick lady on board, called to see me, took a 
fatherly interest in me and rendered me valuable assistance 
other than that of his profession; without the latter I prob¬ 
ably should never have reached home. He regretted much 
that business compelled him to leave the vicinity within the 
hour. But before going he secured for me a physician whom 
he could recommend, and sent a telegram to my husband to 
meet me at the steamboat wharf on Tuesday morning. 

I was alone most of the day on Sunday. Oh, such a long, 
lonely day! Much of that mountain of difficulty was still be¬ 
fore me. It was uncertain whether the telegram would find 
my husband or not, being sent on Sunday morning when all 


104 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


business houses were closed, and I knew no private address. 

During the afternoon my loneliness was oppressive, and it 
was becoming an effort to control my anxious, restless feel¬ 
ings, both about myself and the little children, Josie and 
Dora. I had not seen them since they were dressed in the 
morning, and knew not where they were, or how being cared 
for, when the door opened, and two sweet-faced ladies came 
to see me. They were the mate’s wife and his sister. This 
mate had shown no little kindness in having the great crate 
of trunks overhauled, and mine sent to me. Both of these 
stranger ladies clasped my hand like true friends. The latter 
stooped and pressed a kiss on my cheek. How like angels 
of light they were to me; delicate, and refined in every move¬ 
ment, and yet so cordial in manner. The maiden lady was a 
professional nurse with soft hands and gentle touch. I at once 
secured her service to accompany me back to New York in¬ 
stead of the hard-palmed, coarse country woman, whom the 
latter physician had sent to me, and who had left me to my¬ 
self nearly the whole day. So kind friends were raised up 
to me. If the Lord did not shield me from calamity, he 
took care of me in it. 

Such disinterested kindness as Doctor Mott Francis mani¬ 
fested is scarcely expected or found in a stranger. He made 
haste to return to Providence on Monday, and called upon me 
again, and mapped out the best course for me to pursue on 
my arrival in New York, should I not meet my husband there. 
Before taking leave, he said in a very honest and gentle¬ 
manly way, ‘T hope you will pardon me this inquiry, I do not 
wish to learn if you have money; but should you not have 
sufficient with you to meet those unexpected expenses, I beg 
you will accept a loan from me of whatever amount you may 
need until you reach your husband.” 

I thanked him. Informed him that I had plenty of gold; 
but very little currency. And since few people liked to take 
gold, I would consider it a favor if he would give me cur¬ 
rency in exchange for gold. He gave the paper money but 
refused to take the gold,—on the plea that he did not know 
the price of it,—saying, “Your husband can return it at his 
convenience.” He also refused to accept any compensation 
for the service he had rendered me. And here let me add 
that both my husband and I regret much that in all our^ 
travels we have never since met with or learned aught of' 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


105 


this kind-hearted gentleman, except the brief but very kind 
letter received from him by the captain in acknowledgment 
of the returned money. 

Meanwhile, my telegram had given the captain great anx¬ 
iety, and the intervening time dragged heavily with him. 
Five o’clock Tuesday morning found him on the pier, waiting 
the arrival of the Old Colony. And when an hour later she 
steamed up alongside, he was about to spring on board, but 
was detained by an officer. The mate seeing him asked, “Are 
you that sick woman’s husband?” “Yes!” was the response. 
“Then come right on board!” shook hands and gave him the 
number of my room. 

Before I was scarcely aware that the boat had stopped, I 
caught sight of a familiar form through the crevice of the 
door, just as the nurse closed the door on what she thought 
was some one getting into the wrong room. “It is my hus¬ 
band!” I cried in a momentary spasm of delight; “let him 
in quick!” Only three days had elapsed since we had parted 
company; but it seemed like months. How grand he looked! 
Tall, shapely, and faultlessly dressed, from the broad-fend- 
ered soldier cap on his head to glazed-tipped cloth shoes on 
his feet, in a most becoming suit of navy-blue Sicilian goods 
(that I admired so much), and finishing touches by way of 
tan-colored kids, and an ivory-topped rattan. Not because of 
his clothes only did I think him grand, but because of the 
character,—the life that was unsullied by the common faults 
of most men,—such as anger, malice, jealousy, or profanity; 
and because he was strong in his integrity, self-possessed in 
every emergency, and master of the situation, no matter 
what it might be. Is it any wonder that I thought him the 
highest type of manhood? and that I delighted myself in 
him? The one comforting thought among the many con¬ 
flicting ones in this unfortunate situation had been that of 
again seeing my husband, and I was almost glad of any cir¬ 
cumstance that would bring about such a happy result. I had 
pictured that coming moment of joy, and wondered what new 
words of endearment he would find in his vocabulary of pet 
names, suitable for this very extraordinary occasion, and 
now the moment had come. 

My husband really stood before me with smiling face; but 
instead of hurrying to catch me in his arms (as I had 
pictured) he stood for a moment, while he said, with an as- 


106 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


sumed tinge of reproach in his tone, “What in the world did 
you go and get sick for?” It was only intended as a jest. But 
my experience of the past three days had not been of a na¬ 
ture to produce a disposition for joking in that way, for I 
was keenly sensitive about my situation, and was waiting his 
words of reassurance. 

But oh, what a reaction those few meaningless words pro¬ 
duced! I had borne up bravely all through that trying ordeal; 
had forced back the rising tears and not allowed one to es¬ 
cape; neither had I given up to repining or complaining. I 
had received much kindness where I little expected it, but 
here I expected so much kindness and sympathy, that any¬ 
thing the least bit nonsympathetic seemed too hard to bear. 
Reason and judgment usually desert upon such occasions,— 
mine did utterly. My whole being seemed to come to a full 
stop—^breath and all. I simply faltered, “I couldn’t help it,” 
and turned my face towards the back of the berth, at the same 
time drawing the bedspread over it. Then all the inward pro¬ 
pellers started up again with a rush, and I was lost in a 
torrent of smothered, hysterical sobs. How the brain wheels 
flew around! He had never said anything to me so much like 
a reproach, and how could I bear it now? In a moment I 
knew he was trying to soothe me. Though I could not hear 
his whispered words I felt his lips pressing kiss after kiss on 
the face he had turned toward him. But all the pent-up 
worry, anxiety, and strain on nerve power had well-nigh 
broken loose; and even though I knew the nurse was wit¬ 
nessing this unsatisfactory meeting, I could not make myself 
stop all at once. 

Does the reader think the man I have been describing was 
not master of that situation? But he was, though. It was 
the touch of command in the tone when he said, “Emma, 
Emma!” It was not loud nor harsh nor unkind, only spoken 
in my own ear; but it helped me to recover myself. 

Well, I got my share of petting and pet names, if I did 
urge it on a little; and soon both faces were radiant in the 
happiness of looking upon each other. I think more than 
natural strength was given to me that morning, for I 
combed my own hair and dressed myself without any help 
while nurse was dressing the children. We had to get on 
shore as soon as possible. By the time we were ready, my 
husband had secured a small but commodious tugboat to 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


107 


take me to the packet vessel that was going to sail for 
Hantsport the next morning. I stepped across my room, sat 
down in an armchair, and was carried to the tugboat, where 
a mattress was put on the floor of the cabin, upon which I 
reclined during the three hours steaming from Pier 13 North 
River to East River, which took three hours—seeing he had 
to go moderately slow. 

My father came with my husband in the tugboat; so I 
had a little visit from him, too, while we steamed down the 
river. It was from him that I received a thought which was 
very comforting at that time. Knowing his sensitiveness 
in regard to the reputation of his family, I was giving him 
a few words of explanation by way of apology for not being 
at home sooner; and added, “I suppose I may expect to have 
the cold shoulder turned on me by some of our rigidly re¬ 
spectable people.” 

‘‘Well,” said father, “you will have the satisfaction of 
knowing that you are in good company. Our Lord was bom 
away from home, while his mother was on a journey; and 
from thenceforth there can be no reproach attached to any 
in like circumstances. The discomfort to yourself is all you 
have to worry about.” 

What a happy thought! Why had it not come to me be¬ 
fore! And oh, how I felt to thank the dear Lord that he 
had thus been bom, and that everything was made so com¬ 
plete in his mission to earth. 

In due time I found myself on board the packet, occupy¬ 
ing a narrow berth in a very small room. After my hus¬ 
band had done what he could for the comfort of myself and 
children, he went ashore and made sundry small purchases 
for us. He brought them on board and gave the cook—who 
was an elderly man and a friend of our family since my 
earliest recollections—a liberal fee to cook up dainty dishes 
for me at times, and keep an eye to Josie and Dora when on 
deck. How precious to me were those few hours that he 
remained with us! But they would slip away—though I lost 
none of the time in sleep. About four a. m. he bade me 
good-by again and went ashore to take the early train for 
Philadelphia. 

I would gladly have slept then, but could not. In a short 
time after he left, the packet got under way and started for 
home. The trip to Hantsport was not a pleasant one, be- 


108 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


cause of my own loneliness and the anxiety I felt about the 
children while running about the deck, for fear they would 
be knocked overboard—would sometimes hear them cry and 
could not get to them, nor make anyone hear if I called; and 
also the discomfort of myself and baby in our uncared-for 
condition. But after one mental storm, a most depressing 
storm of weeping, I tried to be as patient as possible and 
wait for strength to help myself. 

A lady friend, Mrs. McCulloch, was on board, and during 
the first two days, while the sea was smooth, she befriended 
me much in caring for the children, and would come in my 
room occasionally and chat a few moments. I shall never 
forget the second day out. The day was bright and beau¬ 
tiful, and all were on deck. Utter silence reigned below, for 
half the “watch” were taking their afternoon sleep, to be 
ready for the night. While lying in that small, close room, 
all alone, I longed for some one to come and speak to me. 
Then I became very lonely, restless, and nervous,—a weird, 
hysterical gloom settled over me. In vain I tried to battle 
it off, and grasped at everything that I could think of in the 
future that would be pleasant or make life bearable. But 
like the drowning man^s “straws,” they all went under with 
me; and a feeling of utter desolation hung over me—indeed 
I felt to be sinking. The undefined waves were rising higher 
and higher; they were choking, stifling me; but I could not 
cry. It seemed to me that I should really die, if left to 
myself from this horror of loneliness! Was it that? or was 
it a premonition of what was yet to come to us ? At length 
I made some one hear, and sent for Mrs. McCulloch, and 
entreated her to remain with me awhile and talk with me, 
or I should die. At first she spoke lightly of my being 
lonesome, since as she said, it had only been two days since 
I had seen my husband. She, though a kind-hearted per¬ 
son, was by nature too matter-of-fact and systematical to 
ever have been guilty of emotional feelings. At the mention 
of my absent husband’s name tears came to my relief, and 
though the spasmodic nature of that weeping alarmed her, 
it did me good. She then thought to draw my thoughts away 
from myself, and spoke of a book she was that day reading 
—a romance, I think—of a young couple who had at a great 
sacrifice gone far from home and friends as missionaries. 
To me it was not very interesting; but it was talk, something 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


109 


to listen to and draw my thoughts after. And I listened till 
I became so weary that I preferred to be left alone again. 
Then she darkened the room, and promised to care for the 
children, so I need not have an anxious thought, and I soon 
fell into a sound sleep—the first I had had since leaving the 
steamer. From that evening it became rough, and my friend 
was seasick, so I saw her no more till we arrived. The poor 
little children also missed her. They had to wait on them¬ 
selves as best they could. Fortunately we were only eight 
days on the trip. But I had abandoned my room in the day¬ 
time, two days before we arrived. The demands of my little 
ones required it, and I was given the strength to do so. 

On my arrival in Hantsport I found that both love and 
money failed to obtain the permanent help of anyone; so 
after spending one night with a relative, I went to my home 
—that had been shut up for two years—alone to undertake 
housekeeping again; but with the cheering thought that 
mother would be with me in a day or two. On my arrival 
I sent a telegram, requesting her to come at once, and bring 
Frank, but after it reached the office at Canning, four miles 
distant from father’s place, it had been overlooked, and laid 
in the office a week; during which time I waited and watched 
for their coming. It was a glad day to me when mother 
reined “old Blucher” up to our front gate, and Frank scram¬ 
bled out of the light wagon in his hurry to get in the house 
before we should see them. He was a bigger boy than I 
expected to see; but had not forgotten his mother this time. 
But ere the children had been together long, I realized that 
I had made a mistake in separating them. Josie and Dora 
had known no other companion in their play, and naturally 
looked upon him as an intruder. And he in turn, though 
over seven years old, was the youngest at his grandma’s, 
and consequently the one most favored. And when at times 
he protested against their appropriating his playthings to 
their own use, or did not handle them as carefully as he 
thought they ought to, he would take them and put them 
away. Josie evidently regarded him in the light of a very 
uncongenial playmate, and more than once said to me, with 
a very wise shake of her little curly head: “That boy has 
never been whupped!” meaning never been corrected or made 
to mind. However, in time they got better acquainted with 
each other. 


110 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


Frank was very fond of going to school, and at that time 
learned very rapidly, and not wishing to get behind in his 
lessons, after coming home, he started to school at once. 
He was fond of play, too; but liked a hot dinner better, and 
preferred spending his noonings in coming home to a warm 
dinner, to taking a cold lunch and having a good play. One 
day he said, “If I was a smart little boy like Willie Balcom 
(who was a fast runner), I could get back in time to have 
some play, but my legs won’t run.” Every child’s first day 
at school is an experience—in which some incident occurs 
that will be remembered, and Frank’s was not an exception. 
He always maintained an individuality wherever he was. So 
on his first day at school—in Pereaux—whatever he wished 
to say he spoke right out full and square, which made a titter 
among the children who had been schooled to silence. The 
teacher came to him and said in a kind but earnest man¬ 
ner: “We do not allow any talking at school; you must not 
speak out loud, on any condition whatever.” Whereupon, 
Frank brought the house down—teacher and all—by answer¬ 
ing without the shadow of a smile, “All right, sir!” in a 
fuller, louder tone than before. Heretofore his schooling 
had been on the ship, where an order given must be promptly 
and distinctly answered. 

It had been the pride of our thought to give our son a good 
education; but events transpired that laid a ruthless hand 
upon our anticipations in that way; and few, indeed, were 
his school days. The winter season set in early. Our wee 
baby, to whom we gave the long name of “Adrienne Mar- 
cedes,” and who we thought at first was too tiny and frail 
to stay in this rough world, lived through all the hardships 
of her tender days and had commenced to grow finely, but 
her troubles were not over. When not quite three months 
old she took the whooping cough. How it came to her we 
did not know. From her the rest took it, all but myself. I 
had never had it, but was mercifully spared at that time when 
my health and strength were so much needed in behalf of 
my little suffering family. When the worst of the coughing 
was over they, one after another, except Frank, went through 
a combination of chicken pox and rose rash. Neither of 
these were anything serious, so they soon recovered, and by 
that time their cough was pretty well over, too. So I hoped 
health would be restored to the household again; but such 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


111 


was not in store for us. Up to that time my children had 
escaped the epidemics common to children, because of their 
being at sea most of their lives. But now it seemed neces¬ 
sary, for some reason, that they should be rushed through 
the whole catalogue in a single season. And ere long they 
were stricken down with scarlet fever and measles; both at 
the same time. Oh, what a terrible winter that was! Not 
for me and my family only, but almost every family in the 
village shared the same. The two diseases being so adverse 
in their nature, that what was beneficial for the one was 
detrimental to the other. So the poor little ones languished, 
suffered, and died; while the winter storms followed each 
other in rapid succession, howled and shrieked around the 
houses, blocked roads, and buried woodpiles. When the fa¬ 
tality was at its height, there were sixteen children buried 
from that small village of Hantsport within two weeks. It 
did seem as if the destroyer of children was passing through 
the place. 

Frank was the first of our little flock to be smitten with 
it. We were still living in what was built for the ell, or 
back part of our house that was to be; consequently there 
was only one good, large room downstairs, and upstairs the 
other two were small. The larger one upstairs was my 
sleeping room, and already had two beds in it, and now for 
the sake of comfort and convenience I had Frank’s bed 
brought in, too, where there being a small stove, we could 
regulate the temperature of the room, and be near all the 
little ones at the same time. I was not alone in these night 
watches. My sister Sophia, who was then a widow, came and 
stayed with me all through the fore part of the season, and 
when she had to return home, my sister Lucinda came and 
remained till the spring. Disease, with Frank, always gal¬ 
loped through his system at race horse speed, laying low all 
before it, and this instance was no exception. What a sick 
child he was! The time came when the physician could hold 
out no hope for his recovery, unless possibly he had sufficient 
vitality to outlive it. His life seemed to hang upon a thread 
as it were, and in my heart I had given him up to die. But 
before this crisis had arrived, Dora became a victim of the 
same malady, and was lying in the next bed. 

When Frank’s life was despaired of, I sent for mother to 
come prepared to remain a length of time; and so I had the 


112 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


consolation of having her with me, and the benefit of her ex¬ 
perience and understanding in nursing. “Oh,” said Doctor 
Black, further on in the sick time, when asked by me if we 
were leaving anything undone, “I wish the many poor little 
sufferers in this village had half the care and good nursing 
that your children have! The truth is, there are not well ones 
enough in a house to take care of the sick.” We kept baby 
Addie and Josie downstairs, and away from the sick ones 
all that it was practicable to do. But having to nurse baby, 
and go downstairs to eat, I doubtless took it to her in my 
clothes, and Addie was the next to fall sick. 

Frank had outlived the disease and all the distressing 
features that follow in its wake, and was a long way ahead 
of the rest in recovering, and yet it was a slow process. He 
was very patient and thoughtful; seeing how entirely our 
time was occupied with the other sick ones, he would almost 
suffer from want of a drink, or whatever he might need, be¬ 
fore he would ask for it, and then apologize for doing so. 
Thus far Josie had kept well; but she was lonesome down¬ 
stairs with only her Aunt Lucinda, and would so often say 
when I came down, “How I wish I would have them, measles, 
’tause it would be so nith to be in that other bed.” “But,” 
said I, “I am afraid my little girl would not think it so nice 
if she was as sick as her little sisters are.” “Oh, res,” (yes) 
she said, “it would be nith to be up there where you are.” 
She loved her mamma dearly, and it was hard indeed for 
her to be long away from me. She was one of those bright, 
active, restless, nervous children, that no one could under¬ 
stand and sympathize with as well as mamma, now that her 
papa was absent. And in return, all of her affection was 
bestowed upon me. 

Before this sickness had entered our house, I was invited 
to spend the day at my husband’s sisters. The invitation 
was accompanied with a request not to bring the children, 
except the baby. It was to be a little company of us four 
sisters-in-law, and the children were to have their visit at 
another time by themselves also. This was sad intelligence 
for little Josie. She did not know how she could put through 
the day without her mamma; and when the day came, she 
followed me from room to room while I made ready. When 
putting on my bonnet before the glass, she stood looking 
up at me, and clasping her little hands together, said en- 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


113 


thusiastically, “Dear little mamma with turls!” (curls). And 
when about ready to leave she said—using the word my in¬ 
stead of I: “My tant live, mamma, else you let me clear 
out your workbathtit (basket),” which basket, I must con¬ 
fess, was in a very disorderly condition, with long ends from 
various spools of thread all wound and twisted"together with 
hooks and eyes and buttons on cards and many “odds and 
ends” and pieces of incompleted work, such as a large work 
basket generally catches. Such tasks were her favorite 
amusement at sea, when the weather was bad, and her mind 
became too restless for the little body to contein, she would 
give me her chain to tangle up, saying, “Just as bad as you 
can, mamma; so I won’t get it out too quick.” 

The work basket was all put in order when I came home. 
Her Aunt Lucinda said she worked all the forenoon at it, 
but never broke a thread. In the afternoon she spent most 
of the time standing by the window looking for my return. 
And now she preferred being sick and with me to being well 
and downstairs without me. When the doctor came from 
time to time, she would say, “Captain Doctor, don’t you 
think my will have them measles pretty soon? There is 
another bed there all ready.” Every man she saw, in a dress 
suit, she called “Captain,” but no others,—and was delighted 
when told that he thought she would have them pretty soon. 
Poor little darling! All too soon she had to be undressed and 
put in the bed that she thought was waiting for her, and was 
never on her feet again. 

It is needless to particularize as to a tenth part of what 
was endured and suffered by all. Suffice it to say, that scarlet 
fever, with its effects is bad enough when alone, but when 
associated with the measles it is far worse; and the time 
came to each—one after the other—that their life was 
despaired of. Twice we thought baby Addie had passed 
away. But three were spared, and one taken. Rheumatic 
fever set in in Josie’s case, and soon wore out the little 
life. It fled from the swollen, distorted, suffering body at six 
o’clock on a Monday evening in the early part of March. 

I now leave the thread of my story and speak of a strange 
coincident that my husband experienced at sea on that same 
evening. The wind was blowing hard, driving the scud and 
heavy black clouds rapidly across the sky. He was standing 
on the quarter-deck, leaning up against the end of the house. 


114 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


in deep thought while gazing upward, where the moon peeped 
out occasionally and was quickly veiled again by the driving 
clouds, when suddenly the clouds parted, leaving a clear, 
bright space between them, out from which a baby angel—as 
plain, said he, as ever was painted on canvas—with a loose 
cloth wrapped about it, descended a little way and was met 
by one—a little larger in size—ascending. As they joined 
each other, the one that had descended, raised its hand at 
arm’s length, pointed upwards, and together they fled away 
in the brightness, and the dark clouds rolled together again. 
It occupied but a moment of time, and yet so completely 
absorbed was he in the vision that the things or surround¬ 
ings of the present with him, had passed out of his mind, 
and when a moment after, while he was yet gazing upward, 
he heard little Josie’s voice, as if at the door calling, “Papa! 
mamma wants you!” He turned quickly and went to the 
door, and was in the act of opening it, before he realized that 
it was not a reality. His little pet was not there clinging to 
the door, but he was alone, and we were many miles away. 
Yet he could not turn a deaf ear to the call; but went to the 
cabin with an undefined expectation of finding us there. The 
room, with its associations of the past, had been desolate and 
lonely enough before. But now it was tenfold more so. A 
deathlike silence reigned that was too oppressive to endure, 
and he went to the deck again, where the darkness and the 
tempest were more in accord with his feelings, and remained 
till far in the night, pondering upon what he had seen, and 
felt assured that another of our little ones had been taken 
away. 

Was it a delusion of the brain? or did the little one to 
whom we had been speaking of her papa a few moments 
before her spirit fled away, convey the message of my heart 
to him? How much I did indeed want him in that hour, 
weary with anxious care and sorrow. How the human heart 
longs at such times for mutual sympathy! 

Near three months now had passed since the night lamp 
in our house had been permitted to go out, and fires kept up 
both day and night. During all this time the night hours had 
been spent in ministering to the suffering ones, going from 
one bed to another in the round of duty, tending throats 
with hot water, putting on and taking off drafts and poul¬ 
tices; iji short doing all that could be done for their relief. 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


115 


As for rest and sleep, we had almost forgotten what it was, 
and wondered when it would be ours again to undress and 
go to bed to sleep all night. When utterly exhausted I 
would sink down on the bed with my clothes on, and sleep 
for an hour or so. It was nearly the same with mother and 
sister; yet I saved them all I could, for sister had the work 
downstairs to attend to. Besides these things, our wood must 
be dug out of the snow, and* both wood and coal carried up¬ 
stairs. Water was brought from an open well, and much 
of that carried up- and downstairs. Our supplies had to be 
brought from the village, which would make many trips to 
and from, and for the doctor, too, once in the dead of night. 
True, one and another of the neighbors came frequently on 
stormy nights and laid in a supply of wood and coal, and 
helped in many ways; yet the bulk of all devolved upon 
myself, since there were few at liberty so to do, because 
sickness prevailed everywhere. Many husbands and fathers 
were absent from their families, and they, too, had claim 
upon neighborly kindness. 

Sadly and tearfully I alone of all our household followed 
the remains of our bright, beautiful child to the grave, on a 
wet, gloomy day. The many newly-made little mounds in 
that sacred inclosure told too plainly of the sorrow that was 
everywhere. When would the gloom be lifted! And yet it 
was not so bad for me as for others near me. Two had 
been taken from several families. But at that time we knew 
not what the end would be; both Dora and Addie were far 
from being out of danger. Dora’s lungs had become affected, 
and we scarcely hoped that such a frail little creature could 
live long. She lay on a cot, or sometimes propped up in the 
big chair, just as we put her, not able to lift even her little 
hands from one place to another, her principal diet being 
loaf sugar and new milk in small quantities. “Is it possible 
that child still lives!” was the common expression of those 
who called; and yet she did not seem to suffer from anything 
but weakness. When Frank and Addie had fully recovered, 
mother returned home. 

Now that the children were better, my anxiety was turned 
in another direction. It had been long since I had heard 
from my husband. The last letter was written from Rotter¬ 
dam, saying he was then chartered for Boston. His ship 
was now overdue, and the owners, as well as myself, were 


116 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


very anxious about her. At length a letter came, but from 
Lisbon instead of Boston, saying he had gotten some dis¬ 
tance on his way across the Atlantic when he encountered 
a series of northwesterly gales, had been dismasted and 
driven before the wind. Had put into Lisbon—the near¬ 
est port he could fetch—for repairs, and probably would not 
reach Boston till the latter part of April or early in May. 
It was a relief to learn of his safety; but I had been looking 
for him home so much sooner. The letter being written in 
February, and from Lisbon, too, which seemed to put him a 
long way off, it was a sore disappointment to me. 

But as long as I remember this circumstance the memory 
of Mrs. Benjamin Newcomb’s kind sympathy will be blended 
with it. She was my nearest neighbor, and we thought very 
much of each other. Upon entering the house while I was 
reading the letter through the blinding tears that kept filling 
my eyesi—she exclaimed, “You dear! What is the matter?” 
and crossing the room quickly to where I was, wound her 
arms about my neck, giving expression to her love and sym¬ 
pathy, and reminded me pleadingly, that he must already be 
nearly home again. Before finishing the letter I found food 
in it for thought. He informed me that he had made up his 
mind to abandon the sea, and had been praying for the Lord 
to make the way clear for him to leave the H. J. Burton on 
his arrival in Boston, and that he might never have to go to 
sea again, that is, as a vocation. And knowing that I would 
be agreed as touching that matter, wished me to unite my 
prayers with his. At eight o’clock each night was the hour 
he appointed for me, and he would reckon the difference in 
time—where he was, and thus our prayers would ascend to 
God at the same time in behalf of the same desire. And I 
did so. 

He arrived in Boston early in May, and was met there by 
one of the chief owners, Mr. J. Fish, who informed him that 
they—the rest of the owners—^had concluded to make a 
change, if he was agi’eed. He said they had a man who 
would like to sail the Burton for a trip or two, and perhaps 
the change would be beneficial. My husband recognized in 
this request the answer thus far, to our prayers, and cheer¬ 
fully acquiesced, and settled up his business with the owners 
and came home, bringing the gladdening news that he had 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


117 


left the H. J. Burton for good, and did not intend to go to 
sea any more. 

It was so restful to me to have him at home again, to help 
in caring for the delicate children that for a time I did not 
think about what he would do next to obtain a living. Little 
Dora was still so delicate that she had to be handled with the 
greatest care. I think a sudden jerk would have snapped 
the brittle thread of her life. She was too weak to be dressed 
in the morning altogether without having to rest once or 
twice during the process, by putting a light shawl about her 
and letting her lie and rest, and sometimes sleep awhile. 
When her papa^came he used to take her out-of-doors in 
his arms, and the warm May sun and air strengthened her 
much. But it was weeks after she could sit up, before she 
could walk. 

About a month after my husband’s arrival, Frank had 
another serious sick spell of inflammation of the brain and 
bowels. And though I was very anxious about him, the care 
rested lightly upon me. His father installed himself nurse, 
and sat by him constantly, having all the medicines and when 
to give them. How vividly one evening of that sickness still 
lingers in my mind. The moon was at its full, and the 
evening being so warm we had doors and windows all open. 
There was no lighted lamp in the sick room, for the moon 
gave light enough. The disease was about at its height. 
The little ones being asleep, the house was perfectly quiet, 
while we two sat by him watching his every movement. 
Our hearts were pierced and saddened, as at times he uttered 
loud cries of pain, then subsided to the inarticulate mutter- 
ings of a delirious brain. Again we were made to smile in 
our sadness at his talk to the boys with whom he thought 
he was playing at a lively game. How the fever raged! He 
lay on his back without power to move—with chest and 
bowels swollen high and hard. At about ten o’clock I went 
to the village and brought our faithful doctor to watch with 
us for an hour or so, knowing the critical moment was at 
hand, and thinking he might possibly be able to take ad¬ 
vantage of some change if there were any. While yet quite 
a distance from the house, we heard his loud cries ring out 
on the still night air, which made us quicken our steps yet 
more. “No,” said the doctor, “there is nothing more that can 
be done for him.” And he shook his head as he stood over 


118 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


him saying, “Poor boy! he is having a hard struggle for 
his life, and a few hours will tell whose is the victory.” 

We knew nothing then about laying on of hands for healing 
the sick. But we had faith in God, and believed in answer 
to prayer. So we knelt and prayed for him; aye, we had 
been praying for him with every breath for days—and again 
had the pleasure of seeing him recover; but he was a changed 
boy. His natural wit and humor, the readiness with which 
he grasped knowledge of all kinds, the love for his books and 
school, together with much that he had already gained was 
obscured as though a fog had settled down over him and he 
was uncertain about his course; could not perceive readily. 
But since that was the second time he had had inflammation 
of the brain, the only wonder is that he retained the balance 
of his mind. 

While on this subject I will just say that when about sev¬ 
enteen years old he had another very severe illness—typhoid 
pneumonia—which “cleared away the fog,” as he said, and 
restored to him his former self. 

It seemed that my turn had come to be waited on for a 
while. The mental and physical strain of the winter or in 
fact ever since I left the H. J. Burton in Philadelphia, had 
done their work. My iron constitution gave way at last and 
I was an invalid for months, and not much better for years. 
Was confined to my bed for six weeks, during which time 
Mr. and Mrs. Leander Davison—my husband’s sister and 
brother-in-law—had received a letter from a friend in New 
Zealand, describing that country in glowing terms, which 
made Sister Libbie feel quite discontent with their quiet life 
in a small village, and wish they, too, could break loose from 
their present surroundings and go to a new and better place. 
For several evenings they, with brother John Burton and 
wife, came down and talked over the subject of a removal 
very enthusiastically. And such a lot of planning! One 
was to buy out the rest of the owners of the H. J. Burton^ 
and get up a small colony to go. Joseph would go as cap¬ 
tain of the ship and colony too, and when we got there, we 
would break up the ship and use the wood for building pur¬ 
poses. 

But that was in the very height of the “fever”; when it 
abated a little they all became more rational, and concluded 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


119 


they would only go as far as California, at least would stop 
there a few years before going farther. 

My husband had taken the fever bad, the people said. 
But with a wife sick in bed, and not knowing when I would 
be able to resume household duties, the outlook was not 
very propitious for us. 

Before I was able to be about again Mrs. Davison had 
broken up and bade me good-by and gone to Halifax to visit 
awhile with her relatives before leaving the country. Her 
husband had to remain in Hantsport some weeks longer to 
finish up his business and get in the money that was due 
him in various places, which caused them much more delay 
than they anticipated; and in the meantime I got out of bed 
and about the house again, but was far from being well. 
Mr. and Mrs. Davison were very anxious for my husband 
to accompany them to California and we had talked seriously 
of the matter. It was very evident that we must make some 
such change, or else he must needs go to sea again. We 
could not keep up appearance sufficient to move in the same 
position in society without about the same amount of money, 
which would not be forthcoming in that vicinity; and much 
as we desired to abandon the sea, and spend more of our 
lives with each other, we were not quite ready to step down 
on the level of accepting jobs of work here and there, and 
live on what was obtained in that way. So the only opening 
there seemed for us was to go to a new place and grow up 
with it. At first we concluded it would be best for Mr. Bur¬ 
ton to go first and get a home, and then send for us—me 
and the children—for he did not think it probable that we 
could sell our place and get cash down for it; and without all 
the money we could not all go. 

I agreed to that, provided I could board home with mother. 
So we took a drive down to Pereaux to talk over the matter. 
Of course all were very much surprised. Mother could 
scarcely become reconciled to our going so far away; but 
since we had been going and coming ever since we were mar¬ 
ried, it was not so hard to part with us as if we had been 
steady residents. A few words said jestingly by Sophia, 
during the conversation, made a sudden change in my mind; 
and although I felt a little hurt at the time, I have never 
ceased to be thankful to her for being thus outspoken. Had 


120 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


I remained behind what a different path in life we might 
have trodden. 

When we had retired to our room for the night, I surprised 
my husband by telling him that he would have to make dif¬ 
ferent plans for the future; that I refused to be left behind. 
If he went we would all go together. There was only two 
weeks remaining of the time Mr. and Mrs. Davison had 
appointed to leave Hantsport. And let it suffice to say that 
when the time came we were ready. Commenced selling off 
our household goods as soon as we got home. We worked 
by faith then, just as much as we ever did or ever will do. 
For with our minds fixed upon going, we did not wait till 
everything was secured to us before disposing of anything; 
but worked as the way opened up. 

When my husband went to one Mr. J. B. North, and told 
him of our intentions, and asked him to buy our place, Mr. 
North said: 

“Well, I think that any young man who has moral cour¬ 
age enough to take his family and go to California, and ex¬ 
pect to make a living for them without any trade, or money, 
or friends, ought to be encouraged. I do not want the place, 
but if you can not dispose of it elsewhere, I will take it if I 
can raise the money. But do what you can to sell.” 

He did so; but every effort was fruitless. And as our 
household goods were nearly all disposed of, I said to my 
husband: 

“Wouldn’t we be in a queer fix if we could not sell our 
place? We could not go; nor stay either, very well, without 
any house furniture.” 

He replied, “There is no if about it; we are going” 

A few days before leaving, he went to Mr. North again, 
and told him it was useless to think of selling elsewhere. 
The vessel in which we were going to New York was lying- 
out in the stream, and our trunks on board, before we got our 
money for the place; yet my faith only wavered that once. 

We had quite an experience on our way to New York. 
Perhaps Neptune did not like the thought of parting with 
old friends, and laid plots against us. The wind was blow¬ 
ing fresh as we neared Nantucket shoals, and kept freshen¬ 
ing as the afternoon wore on. It appeared that Captain M., 
of the Kildare, the vessel we went to New York on, was not 
accustomed to going in over the shoals, but frequently came 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


121 


out over them. And being an irresolute man, he halted be¬ 
tween two opinions and let much of the fair wind and day¬ 
light too, go to waste, while he talked the matter over pro 
and con with Captain Burton. The wind was increasing so 
rapidly that my husband became uneasy about our safety in 
such a place on such a night as that one threatened to be, 
and asked the captain why he did not square away and get 
over the worst of the shoals before dark. Whereupon the 
captain replied that he did not know just what to do. Cap¬ 
tain Burton said there was only one thing for him to do 
now. “You are too far inshore to fetch out around the 
fishing rips; you could not save yourself from getting on 
them.” 

“But,” said Captain M., “I thought I might beat about here 
till morning.” 

“Quite impossible,” replied Captain Burton. “There might 
be a gale of wind before morning. There is now every ap¬ 
pearance of such, and you would be driven on shore before 
midnight.” 

Captain Burton pointed out the entrance, and Captain M. 
gave the order to square away for the shoals, while both 
captains came down in the cabin and consulted the chart. And 
as is the custom when it will be needed often, left it spread 
out on the table. He thought he would be all right after 
he once got in the channel. He entered all right, and had 
kept the channel around one or two. Lighthouses were 
stationed on the point or margin of each one, with different 
lights. It was my custom when at sea with my husband, to 
study the charts as closely as he did, and feeling some 
anxiety, I kept looking first at the lights that were already 
lit, though not yet dark,—and then at the chart. I confess 
I did not have much faith in the skill of Captain M., and 
remarked to Mrs. Davison, who was delightfully uncon¬ 
scious of danger, “I wish I did not know quite so much, or 
else knew a little more; it would make me feel more com¬ 
fortable.” 

“Why,” said she, “is there anything to be uneasy about?” 

“I do not suppose there really is; but with my knowledge 
there seems to be. I should judge we are almost on this 
shoal”—pointing it out. 

“Oh,” said she, “I thought to go over the shoals meant just 
to have shoal water where the sea would not be so high.” 


122 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


“So it does,” I replied, “but in some places it is a little 
too shoal right about here.” 

As I finished speaking there came a terrible crash that 
threw us across the cabin. Mrs. Davison was too terrified to 
speak, but her eyes said, “What has happened?” 

“It is the shoal,” I said, “we have struck it.” 

The ship raised up with the sea, and hang down she went 
again. There seemed to be force enough to break her all 
to pieces, but it did not. When she struck the first time, all 
was confusion on deck. The captain just jumped up and 
down and swore. Had so many oaths mixed with his orders 
that the men could scarcely tell what he did say, and they 
did their part of the swearing, too. 

However, when Captain Burton heard or saw that he was 
about to “wear around,” he knew that there was no time for 
words, and if they carried out the purpose of “wearing 
around,” that we, or at any rate the vessel would never get 
off that shoal; besides, the captain of the ship scarcely knew 
what he was doing, so excited was he. All this was com¬ 
prehended in a flash, and he. Captain Burton, sprang to the 
wheel. At the same time his voice of command rang out 
above the crashing of the waves, howling of the wind, and 
fearful cursings of the captain, in the words, “Hard alee!” 
And instead of putting the helm up, he made it spin the 
other way, putting it down with all his might. When the 
command of “hard alee” is given, mates and men always 
know just what to do to make ready to “tack ship.” And 
these men worked lively, the captain bearing a hand with 
them. 

As soon as the ship was in the channel again, her captain 
came aft, and Captain Burton apologized for what he had 
done, saying he knew that our lives depended upon prompt 
measures. Captain M. scratched his head and accepted the 
apology rather awkwardly. In his heart he was glad of it; 
but it was not quite in keeping with his dignity to acknowl¬ 
edge his incompetency by saying so. 

It was a terrible night. There was nothing for us to do 
but run back and forth in that narrow channel till daylight, 
and that too at the risk of smashing into some other vessel. 
The captain thought he could anchor near the opposite shoal, 
but in the attempt he lost his anchor and chain without ever 
checking her headway. I was probably just as badly scared 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


123 


when we were bumping on the bottom as Libbie was; but 
when she got in the channel again, and the pumps were 
sounded to see that she was not hurt, my fright subsided 
to a feeling of anxiety and dread. But poor Libbie, never 
having been in a storm at sea before, thought the vessel was 
going over every time she gave a heavy lurch to leeward. 
And in reassuring her and the children, I strengthened my¬ 
self. Our own captain would come down once in awhile to 
see how we were getting along, and although we liked to 
have him with us, we felt safer when he was on deck. And af¬ 
ter a few minutes stay below, Libbie would beg for him to go 
on deck again. We heard a good deal of hammering going 
on on deck, and I asked my husband when he came below 
what they were doing. To which he answered carelessly 
that he supposed they were making things secure. Had we 
then known that they were making preparations to send us 
women and children up in the rigging, and to lash us there, 
should the vessel go ashore before morning, we should have 
felt more uneasy than we did. 

During the evening we had another scare. The sound of a 
human voice or voices was heard blended with the rush 
and roar of the waves, near the bows of the ship; and we 
in the cabin heard the cry of “Man overboard!” and men 
running to and fro. What a moment of anxious suspense, 
lest it should be ours that was overboard. The captain hav¬ 
ing a pair of glasses in his hand, immediately applied them 
to his eyes, and saw indistinctly through the darkness and 
flying spray, three objects that may have been sticks, or 
may have been men in a boat, quite near the windward side 
of the ship; but it was only a momentary glance, when the 
angry waves rushed against the side of the ship, deluging 
everything with flying spray, hiding all objects from view. 

It was soon learned that none were missing from the ship. 
And while we felt a deep commiseration for the unfortunate 
ones, we in our selfish nature thanked God that it was not 
ours. The captain objected to tacking ship in the endeavor to 
rescue them, when my husband made the suggestion saying 
he had lives in his care that he dared not hazard to save 
others. As the evening wore on, I at least became accus¬ 
tomed to the situation, and felt a disposition to go to sleep. 

At midnight my husband came below, bearing on his lips 
the most soothing of all “saltwater phraseologies,” “The 


124 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


wind is moderating.” None but a sailor’s wife can realize 
all that one word “moderating” implies. Next morning, while 
on the same “beat,” we passed close by the hull of a vessel, 
bottom up. By the location of the lighthouses, it was very 
near where we had heard the cry of distress, and the captain 
thought those three objects that he saw must have been men 
astride of the keel. We felt a solemn gratitude to God, 
while viewing the keel of that unfortunate ship, that had 
probably struck on the very reef that we did, that we were 
spared, while she with all of hers had perished. And not 
only that, but we had passed and repassed the wreck during 
the night, and had been so guarded as never to have come 
in contact with it. 

As I look back now, I can see that the Lord had a purpose 
in directing us to another land. He had a work for us to do, 
and spared us for it, and in sparing us spared all in the 
ship. 


CHAPTER 6 


O UR trip to California > was in the early days of railroad 
traveling across the plains—October, 1869—when it was 
considered necessary to carry soldiers for protection against 
the Indians; and had this chapter been written at that time it 
might have been filled with interesting incidents. But travel 
across the continent has become an everyday occurrence, and 
the experience of each very similar, that it has become too 
well known and read to write of here, except a few slight 
touches of how very odd the phraseologies sounded to us as 
we neared California; such as “a square meal for six bits” 
(seventy-five cents), and “four bits” (fifty cents), “two bits” 
(twenty-five cents), and “a short bit” (ten cents), and oth¬ 
ers too numerous to mention. And again, as we neared Salt 
Lake City, a man of friendly appearance came on board our 
car. Since said place was a point of interest to travelers, as 
well as to all Americans we were speculating among our¬ 
selves regarding its inhabitants—of whom we knew very 
little indeed, except that it was their religion to have a lot 
of wives. We wondered how they looked, how they lived; 
and though the thought was not exactly worded, if they were 
really human beings. And since the stranger seemed in¬ 
clined to talk, Mr. Davison asked him some questions about 
Brigham Young. That was like touching a match to a long 
line of powder. He was brimful of information regarding 
Salt Lake City and its inhabitants, and was no ways back¬ 
ward about giving it; in the which one could plainly see that 
he was not a friend of Brigham’s. He related an incident 
or two, with a flash of fire in his eyes, of how Brigham 
Young had oppressed the people. Mrs. Davison became en¬ 
thusiastic in her interest in all that was being said, and plied 
him at every opportunity with various questions. For the 
sake of a better view of what portion of the city could be 
seen while passing through, the trio stepped out on the 
platform. During a pause in the conversation Mrs. Davison 
said in her emphatic way, “I would like to see a Mormon'* 
The stranger looked at her a moment half incredulously, 
and said in a matter of course tone, “Why, I’m a Mormon!” 

Mrs. Davison was so taken by surprise she nearly lost her 
breath. 


126 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


“Are you a Mormon!” she said, instinctively stepping back 
a pace and surveying him from head to foot. 

As may be imagined the stranger laughed heartily at her 
astonished look. He reached his destination just before we 
reached Ogden. We were all sorry to lose so genial a travel¬ 
ing companion. 

On reaching San Francisco we were a little disappointed 
because of not finding a five-dollar-a-day job waiting for us 
or anybody else. The hotel runner was the man to be con¬ 
sulted on all topics; and though he was well informed in 
regard to the resources of the country, he was not prepared 
to tell us just where was the best place to seek a location. 
Said the country was large, there was lots of room in it, 
and no doubt work could be found somewhere. We felt 
rather forlorn in that great, strange city, not knowing just 
where we wanted to go or what we wanted to do, apart from 
the one purpose to make a living. And having no friends, 
if we did not make a move soon, would have no money 
either. 

There was just one man in the State whose name and post 
office address we knew, a Nova Scotian, Mr. Newton Best. 
We had never met him, but his wife was a cousin of mine. 
They had been in California some three years, and we knew 
that their people addressed them at Gilroy, Monterey County. 
So Mr. Burton resolved to go to Gilroy and make arrange¬ 
ments for us to locate somewhere near our friends. He 
expected to be back to the hotel the same evening or possi¬ 
bly the next morning. Evening and morning came and went, 
and still he did not come. And while we waited and watched 
with anxiety sharpened by all kinds of apprehensions of the 
wild country of California, I will follow him in his first ex¬ 
perience in the golden land. 

On arriving at Gilroy he went to the post office directory, 
but there was no Mr. Best on the list; he made inquiries of 
various persons, but no one knew of such person; there was 
certainly no such person in town. He returned to the post 
office just as the mail was being made up for Hollister and 
San Benito. There he learned from the mail carrier that 
Mr. Best lived in San Benito, a distance of fifty-two miles, 
and that the stage was then going to Hollister, sixteen 
miles of that distance, and the balance had to be made on 
horseback. This piece of information was rather depressing 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


127 


for a sea captain. But nothing daunted he took stage for 
Hollister; then hired a horse, and mounting a Spanish sad¬ 
dle, undertook the journey up the mountains. It was ten 
o’clock in the evening when he arrived, more dead than alive. 
Fortunately for him and the horse too, he was very much 
lighter in those days than at the present. It so happened 
that there were three fine “claims,” that is, quarter sections 
of Government land just above Mr. Best’s claim, one of them 
adjoined it. The next morning he and Mr. Best went out to 
take a look at them. While upon the grounds two other men 
came there for the purpose of taking up land; and since Mr. 
Burton was first on the ground they allowed him to take his 
choice of the three claims, which was the one adjoining Mr. 
Best’s. 

Next morning he saddled the “broncho” and started back 
to Hollister. The knowledge that he was then recognized 
as the owner of a fine, large farm, all ready for the plow, 
stimulated him on that long-to-be remembered journey, 
and made him more forgetful of the discomfort of that hard 
saddle. When he reached Hollister the stage for Gilroy 
had gone. The hire of his horse had taken about all the 
money he had with him, except enough for his car fare to 
the city. And he had arranged with Mr. Best—now Brother 
Best—to meet us in Gilroy the noon of the second day with 
his team. So after his thirty-six-mile ride on horseback, he 
had to make the remaining sixteen miles on foot, and then 
lay his weary bones down ^on the ground under the railroad 
platform for the balance of the night, and catch short naps 
between the howling of dogs and the carousing of half- 
drunken Spaniards. Had he been a Californian he would 
have hunted a haystack. 

Towards morning he became so numbed with cold he had 
to get up and walk about till daylight. It was then the 
third day since he left the hotel in San Francisco, and the 
reader may well imagine my anxiety about him, and what 
a relief it was after the long suspense to see him about noon, 
slowly ascending the long flight of stairs that led to our 
room, like a man bent v/ith years and many infirmities. I 
had several minutes in which to draw imaginary pictures 
of what had befallen him before he reached the top of the 
stairs; but never once thought of him taking a ride on horse¬ 
back. And notwithstanding the misery he was in we all 


128 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


joined in a hearty laugh as he in glowing terms portrayed 
his experience of the past three days. He dwelt enthusiastic¬ 
ally upon the beautiful “claim’’ he had taken up. First, 
because he really thought it beautiful, and second as an in¬ 
centive to stimulate us for our long, tedious journey. He 
said there was another claim he had engaged for Mr. Davi¬ 
son if he wished it. So as we made ready for our journey, 
I for one felt quite rich in the realization of what I had 
remembered of an emigrant song I heard a Boston lady sing 
shortly after we moved to Cornwallis, and which I used so 
often to sing while in my short rope swing. It ran thus: 

“Come along! come along! make no delay. 

Come from every nation, come from every way; 

Just bring your wife and children, and don’t be alarmed. 
For Uncle Sam is rich enough to give us all a farm.” 

I little thought then that Uncle Sam would ever give me a 
farm. 

According to promise we were met next day at the rail¬ 
road station in Gilroy. It seemed as if every turn Mr. 
Burton took that day he had to put his hand in his pocket 
and pay out money to some one; and in Gilroy he informed 
me that he had paid out his last dollar, and it was needful 
that we should have some provisions to take up the country 
with us. So my beautiful blue silk dress—which sorrow and 
mourning had prevented me from making up—had to be sac¬ 
rificed at the nominal price of ten dollars, simply because 
the merchant was taking it to accommodate us; and our first 
supplies in starting in our new life in California were bought 
with the price of it. I felt like shedding a few tears when 
I saw it passing out of our hands; still I knew I should never 
use it in that rough country, and was glad away down in my 
heart that I had it to sell. 

Hollister at that time was only the embryo of a town. 
There was one redwood house that was dignified by the title 
of “hotel.” It was after night when we drove in the feed 
yard, hard by this hotel, and the lamplight shining through 
the board cracks in the walls^—^between the boards—looked 
cheery; and the savory smell of frying beefsteak that issued 
forth was appetizing to us cold, hungry travelers, who had 
only lunched from a basket at noon. Brother Best turned 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


129 


up some boxes for us to sit on, and busied himself with 
putting out his team. Our husbands had not arrived yet; 
there was no room for them on the load after the women and 
children were seated—and very uncomfortably so—conse¬ 
quently they had to walk. On account of deafness I had not 
learned the disagreeable fact that we did not have money 
enough to pay hotel expenses, and wondered why we were 
no-t shown into the house at once, where we could rest. My 
baby, fifteen months old, was fat and heavy, and I had 
scarcely had her out of my arms during the whole day. 
When Brother Best had taken care of his team he proceeded 
to build a campfire. By the time that was ablaze, our weary 
men came in the yard, but said nothing about being tired. 
Mr. Burton was as jolly as if he was out on a picnic. When 
I asked why he did not take us in the house, he made reply 
in a tone and gesture of great dignity, that he could not 
think of taking his family into a house like that to spend 
the night. 

■“But,” I answered, “it is better than nothing, and I am so 
tired; do let’s go in.” 

■“Oh, we can’t; they won’t have us there.” 

Then I felt a little indignant and wanted to know why. 

“Well,” said my husband, “the tinith is, we have no money 
to pay them.” 

My heart began to sink; and when I learned little by little 
that we were going to eat supper out in that yard, and sleep 
on the haystack, I felt desolate enough. I had never thought 
of enduring such hard times as that. People never went 
“camping out” in our country, so I had never slept out of 
doors nor eaten by a campfire before. But despite the deg¬ 
radation, that supper tasted good, and the spacious bed was 
comfortable. There was a rickety roof over the stack that 
shut out the damp air, but it was so strange to look up at 
the stars, and hear the horses stepping about just below us, 
with occasional low whinnies. And the idea of it all was so 
dreadful it was a long time before I could get to sleep. At 
least it seemed a long time, though it may have been only 
ten minutes. It was evident that our field bed was open to 
the public, for during the night several more than our own 
company found a resting place in some part of it. We would 
never have been the wiser of that fact had it not been told us. 

We were astir next morning as soon as it was light. The 


/ 


130 BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 

ground was glistening with frost, and the air biting cold. 
Our beefsteak gravy hardened as soon as it touched the 
plates. (Mr. Best had prepared for camping out.) But we 
ate heartily nevertheless. The sun was just peeping over the 
hills wihen we started on that never4o-be-forgotten journey 
away up among the hills to our new home. 

The day wore slov/ly on while we wended our way up, 
among, around, between, and over the big hills, crossing and 
recrossing the Tres Pinos and San Benito rivers, over such 
frightful roads as we had never thought of. We were a 
cramped, tired, cold, hungry, blue-feeling lot when we ar¬ 
rived at Brother Best’s at ten o’clock that evening. Cousin 
Annie had given up our coming that night and gone to bed. 
Our two men, who had made the distance on foot, arrived 
only a few minutes later than we. Such was our entrance 
upon the life of “starting in a new place, and growing with 
it.” The poetry of such a life is only seen when viewed from 
a distance. 

Cousin Annie’s house was quite sufficient for herself, that 
is, herself, husband and two little children. But when seven 
more were added to the family, and four of them being men 
and women, there was no room to spare. But we were 
forced to impose ourselves upon her accommodations until we 
could get a cabin of our own built. She was of a cheerful 
disposition and made the best of her lumbered-up house. 

In two weeks time we had a little cabin of our own, void 
of any floor but mother earth. I displayed to the best ad¬ 
vantage the few household notions I had brought with me; 
gathered the pale green moss that hung from the trees on 
our “new farm” and made a carpet—^for a day or so—and 
for a time took a romantic view of “life in California,” with 
no windows to wash, no doors, floors, or woodwork to scrub, 
and I might as well add, no cooking to do. We were told 
that in two months the rains would come, then there would 
be plenty of work, which meant more plenty of all the neces¬ 
saries of life. But there were no rains for two years, no 
crops, no work, and the hardships that we were subject to 
took the romance all out of our new life. It was only the 
very hardest kind of work that could be gotten, such as 
digging wells and building brush fences (of logs so heavy 
that it often took three men with a pry to put them in their 
places), and even the pry could not always be obtained. We 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


131 


confined our expenses to the very limited sum obtained in 
that way. Fortunately we did not need clothing of any kind 
during those two years—except something of the very plain¬ 
est for my husband to work in—for it took all that was 
earned to furnish the table with the plainest of'food, and 
often a meager supply. Meats (except game), sweetening, 
milk, butter, eggs, or fruits were luxuries that seldom found 
their way to our table during the first year. And as for 
potatoes and vegetables, no one in the country had them. 

A little circumstance occurs to my mind in connection with 
those times that was very amusing to Mrs. Davison. She 
had a set of ivory-handled knives and forks that she had 
brought from home with her, and since I only had those that 
were in our lunch basket in the cars, we kept two of hers 
with them to use. And not having had anything on the table 
for a few days that required the use of knives and forks, I 
put them away. When Sister Libby went to set the table for 
our evening meal she said, “Emma, I am afraid the children 
have taken my knives and forks out and lost them; I can not 
find them anywhere in the house, and there is only one of 
yours here.” 

“They are not lost,” I replied; “I put them away in the 
trunk. We have no use for them, and what is the good of 
having them about?” 

Whereupon she laughed heartily, saying, “Oh, bring them 
out, Emma; we like to see them on the table whether we 
use them or not.” 

But Sister Libbie was only with me a short time. When 
my husband went away to work where he could not come 
home nights, and I was left alone in that thin “Shake” 
house, with a door of the same material, and only a wooden 
latch for a fastening, and no neighbors within a mile, and 
the center of the valley being a highway for Spaniards and 
“greasers,” no pen can tell the terrors I suffered from fear, 
both day and night. In fact I was afraid of everyone I saw 
coming to the house, or passing along the road, for fear they 
would come to the house, not knowing who were our neigh¬ 
bors, or who were not. I tried to comfort myself with the 
thought that if some one did come and murder us I would 
be rid of this suffering. It was not only human beings that 
I feared, but grizzly bears, too. We were told that there 
were some in the hills back of us, and our first residence was 


132 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


well up to the foothills. One evening my husband came home 
from his work in Bear Valley, after being there a few days, 
and to make the distance shorter, left the main road and 
came through a canyon. The next morning he returned the 
same way and Siaw the track of a grizzly right over those of 
his own. It evidently had scented him and followed at no 
great distance. 

I am thankful to say though that we had not been there 
very long till the dreadful sensation of fear was taken from 
me, and I felt as safe behind that wooden latch as if it had 
been iron bars. And the children were blessed with good 
health and good appetites for our coarse food. 

In the darkness of those two years of hard times, in a 
strange land, even the wilds of California, the names of our 
loved ones at home were to me almost too sacred to reiterate. 
True, I had been used to leaving home, and going to distant 
lands; but we were always near the busy marts of the 
world, and there was always the knowledge that we would 
soon return. But now it was different. We had come to 
stay. On leaving home we fully expected to be able to return 
for a visit in a few years, bearing about us a tinge at least 
of the halo that accompanies heroes, since it was quite a 
feat to start up from a quiet neighborhood like ours and go 
to California. But all those bright features had faded, 
gone out, as also that “presence” within, that had been so 
like a reality, and that had prompted us to make the move. 
And the “light in the distance” which had impelled us on¬ 
ward. Where was it? We had reached the ^‘distance,” and 
it was not there. 

I used to wonder if we had not made a mistake, had fol¬ 
lowed a will-o’-the-wisp, and it had left us in the bog. For 
it seemed to me that we must needs spend the rest of our 
days in poverty. We had so little of this world’s goods and 
needed so much; and my bump of hope not being very promi¬ 
nent, I could not see how it was possible for us ever to get 
far enough ahead, considering the disadvantages of the coun¬ 
try, to get a good comfortable home. Still I could not say I 
was ever really sorry for the move we had made, since my 
husband did not have to go to sea. That one thought com¬ 
pensated for a multitude of other disadvantages. 

And now in looking back at the darkness of those two 
years, I see also manj?^ bright spots that shine like stars in 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


133 


the firmament, when the moon does not appear; the dark 
background serving to enhance their brightness. Some were 
in this wise: On Saturday nights, or other nights when Mr. 
Burton was expected home, I would get our supper a little 
earlier—he always ate where he worked—get the work done 
up, and the children put to bed, and add to my simple cos¬ 
tume whatever touches would make it and the wearer appear 
to the best advantage, and walk half a mile or more to meet 
him, and enjoy our walk home (often in the moonlight) as 
well as lovers before marriage. And if perchance I had in 
that poor little house of ours—made bright by love only— 
some little surprise awaiting him, which may have been the 
fruits of a whole week's economy and forethought, with what 
childlike glee I would wait the final moment to witness the 
pleasing effect. He knew too well the cost—not in dollars 
and cents merely of all those surprises, and gave full ex¬ 
pression of appreciation. The great advantage of being 
real poor is that every little thing in the way of a luxury, a 
“luxury" in those circumstances, is appreciated to its fullest 
value; and such little trifles would fill the heart with glad¬ 
ness. 

Sometimes Mr. Burton would think he could not remain 
thus and see his family so destitute of the comforts of life, 
and speak of making an effort to get to a seaport to seek a 
berth in some ocean traveler. But such suggestions would 
“break me all up,” and my plea would be, “If we only have 
a crust, let us eat it together. We have left home and friends 
to live together, and now to be left alone in this lonely, re¬ 
mote place, would be more than I could bear.” 

Our neighbors did not fully realize for a time our situation, 
since our apparel, and the few things that we brought with 
us did not suggest poverty. They were inclined to believe 
that we had money, but were living in that rustic style from 
choice. When the real facts of our hard struggle became 
known, we found in those scattered neighbors friends in¬ 
deed, who extended a helping hand in various ways; all of 
which was duly appreciated by us, and I trust will not be 
overlooked by the All-Father when he assembles his children 
together before him to render justice and judgment to them 
for their works while in the “far country.” 

But as the second year began to wane, my husband, who 
had never been accustomed to any other work than pulling 


134 


BEATRICE "WITHERSPOON 


ropes and stowing cargo, and had done very little of that 
since he was nineteen years of age, when he sailed as “mate,” 
found his strength was giving way, not only from work, but 
so much walking and carrying heavy burdens. When strength 
fails courage and ambition wane. He steadily grew thinner 
and weaker. While the hot sun bronzed the faces of our 
neighbors, it only bleached his, making it more white. 

And as for myself, it seemed as if I was suffering pain in 
some way all the time. But still the children's wants must 
be supplied, and the daily routine of work gone through. 
Besides poor health generally, I became the victim of fre¬ 
quent and violent attacks of headache. One kind was of 
three days’ duration; and daily neuralgia of the face. This 
neuralgia was with me more or less for nearly three years, 
would come on late in the afternoon. I knew about when 
to prepare for it. Would put a chair with a pillow in it 
near the stove, a piece of flannel to wrap my head in, and 
a quilt that some one would put all over me in a way to 
keep out all air possible. And when the whirlwind of pain 
struck me I crouched down by the chair with face buried in 
the pillow, and there wrestled for half an hour or more with 
intense pain; not by struggling, but by holding myself still, 
while everyone stepped lightly and spoke in a whisper. To 
move a muscle or attempt to speak was like pouring oil in 
the flame. At least it was putting myself beyond my own 
control. When the paroxysm had passed off, all but a low 
grumble, and I emerged from beneath my mufflers, one might 
well think from the haggard visage that I was just recover¬ 
ing from a prolonged, besotted dissipation. Occasionally I 
would escape these attacks for a while when the weather was 
warm and no wind blowing. Doubtless this suffering was 
the result of inflamed gums and a number of decayed teeth. 
I could not expect a dentist to relieve me of those useless 
teeth for nothing. There were no dentists nearer than fifty 
miles, and all strangers. And since we had nothing to pay I 
simply had to endure. I have a purpose in mentioning those 
incidents common to life, that will be seen further on. 

But all those afflictions were generating very unwhole¬ 
some features, such as seasons of gloomy despondency, in 
which no ray of light or hope for anything better, entered. 
And worse than the despondency, was the growing irrita¬ 
bility. This feature I was reminded of by my little girls in 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


135 


such a touching- manner that for shame of myself I endeav¬ 
ored to resist it more in future. I had been teaching six- 
year-old Dora a text to say in Sunday school, which was, 
“Little children love one another”—possibly I thought it was 
in the Bible somewhere. Shortly after when she and Addie 
were outside, but sitting close up to the house to keep out 
of the sun, I heard them having a merry laugh, and dlrew 
near to where they were. The “shake” house being so thin 
and open, I could look right down on them, and had often 
heard some very amusing sayings. And since the children 
and ourselves constituted the most interesting part of “our 
world,” we loved them dearly, if I was not as patient 
and motherly at all times as I ought to have been. But 
this time the adage that “listeners never hear any good of 
themselves” was proven true. Dora had added another line 
to her text, and repeated, “Little children love one another, 
—and have patience with your mother,” which dash of 
poetical genius amused them both very much. 

I think she was alluding to general principles, and not at 
all in reference to her lesson, for it was my delight to teach 
them. However, she evidently thought that was rather hard 
on her mother, and in a short time made an amendment by 
striking out the word mother and substituting that of 
brother. And then they had another laugh at their broth¬ 
er’s expense; after which Addie said, “Oh, Dora, let’s have 
both.” But Dora shook her head, saying, “No; because it 
would be naughty to say that about our mother.” 

Once again, some time after this incident, we overheard 
another amusing conversation by the children, in which the 
newly-picked-up California phrases were brought in very 
handily. It was a dark, rainy night, and from some cause 
their outdoor work was not all done up before supper, 
though we ate at lamplight. We had naturally dropped into 
the practice of leaving the supper table as soon as we (my 
husband and I) had finished eating, letting the children 
finish their meal at their leisure, and have their talk un¬ 
restrained, while their father and I retired to the one “other 
room,” and enjoyed a cozy chat by firelight, both occupy¬ 
ing the one rocking chair. This evening of which I speak, 
as we left the table, Mr. Burton reminded Frank of what 
was yet to be done, saying, “Do not forget to do it as soon 
as you are done with your supper.” To which Frank duly an- 


136 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


swered, accepting as a matter of course. L#eaving the door 
partly open as we entered the room, the father heard his 
little daughter say, 

“Frank, if you was boss of yourself, would you do that?” 

“Yes,” answered Frank, in his sturdy manner, ‘T would 
do what my father'told me to, no matter how big I was.” 

“You bet I wouldn’t!” said the little miss, “in such a 
rain as this!” 

But I think she forgot her self-promised freedom, for we 
never discovered any signs of rebellion. 

Notwithstanding our limited resources, we had by dint of 
perseverance and persistent effort gathered some things about 
us, animate and inanimate, that made our home look a little 
more homelike. We had a cow, a few fowls—chickens and 
turkeys, a well of water, and a better house than the first 
one; that is, it was higher and had more room in it, though 
of the same material. But it had a floor. I wonder what 
good fortune could come to me now that would make me 
feel as rich, proud, and happy as I did when that rough red¬ 
wood board floor was laid. The boards were new and of a 
pinkish color that made the house look so much more cheer¬ 
ful, and so clean. Yes; we had gathered these things about 
us, and still owed no man anything—all had been “worked 
out.” 

In December of 1871 the rainy season set in, and every¬ 
body was jubilant. Our selection gave evidence of being a 
very fertile piece of land and promised an abundant harvest, 
if only the seed were sown. So with the coming harvest as 
security we acted upon the advice of neighbor farmers and 
launched forth in the vortex of debt, for it takes money to 
make money, and more requires more. And though our cir¬ 
cumstances were changed, our struggle was not over, but we 
were increasing in goods, so it could be borne cheerfully. 

Mr. and Mrs. Davison lived near us for over two years, 
though he did not take up land. He was a carpenter by 
trade, and a good workman, and could get work elsewhere. 
Our harvest exceeded our most sanguine expectations. 

Early in the fall of 1872 we VN^ere surprised, and I almost 
overjoyed to see my brother George come walking along up 
to the house without even a satchel in his hand. What a 
treat it was to see some one right from home. He, like us, 
was moved by an irresistible impulse to come to California. 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


137 


He thought to better his fortune. Doubtless he was led there 
for the same purpose that we were, which purpose was then 
unknown to either of us. 

I have omitted to mention our effort and success in getting 
up a Sunday school. About the time of our arrival in San 
Benito the settlers had determined to start a school for their 
children, even if they were but “few and far between,” and 
the man whose services they had enlisted was a Methodist 
exhorter, Martin by name. Since he taught school during 
the week, I think he gave the Sunday service gratis. After 
talking up Sunday school among ourselves, that is including 
Mr. and Mrs. Davison and Mr. and Mrs. Best, we conferred 
with him, soliciting his aid and influence. In seeking the 
minds of our neighbor settlers on the matter, some feared 
we were bringing new-fangled notions in the place that 
would not prove wholesome. Heretofore very few had made 
any distinction between Sunday and any other day. However, 
the S'undav school was started, and gradually the children 
came in, till it grew to be quite an interesting school, and 
made life more like living, by having something to think about 
and prepare for during the week—^the one diversion for us 
to look forward to in our monotonous life in a new country. 

Now that there had been a good year, and the settlers had 
a little more means, were a little better off, and there having 
been several new families moved in also, and we had Bro';her 
George to help in the enterprise, and we needed books for our 
school, one day when Sister Libbie was at our house we 
talked over the probabilities and possibilities of an entertain¬ 
ment of some kind, and have a program for the evening. As 
she said, we were dying from stagnation, and needed some¬ 
thing to liven us all up. 

After talking the matter up with George and Mr. and Mrs. 
Best, Libbie and I volunteered to go around and see all the 
neighbors, both far and near. We both had horses that we 
rode—and with a Spanish saddle, too. Neither of us had 
anything to give, but volunteered to do the work, or at least 
the most of it. We proposed to get up a supper, charge fifty 
cents for adults and twentv-five cents for children. 

So Libbie and I mounted our horses and rode over that 
rough countri/ for the best part of three days, taking names 
and wha-t each family would give, and sent for it another 
time, and got the promise of sufficient things to cook with to 


138 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


make the supper, and there was lots sent in afterwards, so 
we concluded to make a real holiday—would have dinner and 
supper, too. The young folks were very fond of playing 
games, such as school children play. We occupied the 
schoolhouse and grounds, and what a fine time they had! 
There were not very many to the one o’clock dinner, but 
supper commenced early and continued till. late, and still 
there were unbroken provisions left, and those were put up 
at auction, till all was sold and sold well. All were delighted 
with the program. We made upwards of seventy dollars, and 
our expenses were very light. This money furnished our 
school with a select library, together with reward cards, after 
which we had sufficient left to purchase a bookcase to put 
them in, and all felt amply rewarded for our exertions. 


CHAPTER 7 

T he SUNDAY school had been a success, and a Temper¬ 
ance Division had been organized, but we were hungry 
for gospel privileges. This need we realized more keenly 
each time we received a religious newspaper from home. 
We called to mind the many thousands of dollars that were 
being spent yearly to send the gospel to foreign lands, and 
wondered if some of it would not be better spent in sending 
it to people nearer home, even to the wilds of California. 
Truly it was much needed right in the vicinity where we 
lived, and for miles both ways the majority of the settlers 
worked right along on Sunday the same as any other day, 
and scarcely knew what religion was, or what its purpose. 
We thought about writing to our Baptist minister at home, 
and soliciting his influence to the end of having a missionary 
sent out. But when we took into consideration that should 
one be sent, he must needs be supported, and that the few 
people who made claims to religion were of various denomi¬ 
nations, and probably would not encourage or help support 
one not of their faith; and thus not knowing what would be 
the best to do in the matter, we concluded to leave it all to 
the Lord, and make it a subject of prayer that he would 
send the gospel to us. “And,” said I, “we’ll ask him to send 
a Baptist minister.” 

“Perhaps we had better let the Lord choose, and send it 
by whom or in whatever way pleases him,” was my hus¬ 
band’s reply. 

“Very well; I will agree to that,” I said, “for the Lord 
will chose the right, so of course that will be a Baptist.” 

The reader may conclude from the above that I was much 
more denominational than my husband, but it was just the 
reverse. However, we prayed earnestly to the Lord to send 
the gospel to us. 

Not long after the above conversation took place, which 
was early in the summer of 1873, a stranger drove up to our 
house about noon, and was invited to put his horse up and 
remain till after dinner. He informed us that he was a 
preacher of the gospel, and wished to locate in that part of 
the country; was driving through to seek and make a selec¬ 
tion before bringing his family. He was a large, well-built 
man of pleasant mien, and we judged by his talk that he was 


140 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


a real, live preacher, and thought perhaps the answer to our 
prayers had come. 

Mr. Burton told him we had been praying for the gospel, 
and perhaps he was the man by whom the Lord was going 
to send it to us, which information seemed to be very pleasing 
to him, and perhaps aided him in deciding to bring his family 
—wife and two daughters—^and locate at once. We learned 
before he left the house that his name was Riddle, and he 
was of the Disciple faith. But since we had left it to the 
Lord to choose, we did not intend to turn aside from any 
because of their denomination until we had investigated their 
claims. 

He soon commenced regular services in the schoolhouse. 
We were somewhat disappointed in the force of his sermons, 
but thought he might not have felt quite at home the first 
Sunday and would probably do better after awhile. Since 
his place was seven miles beyond ours, we always invited 
them to stop and take dinner with us on Sundays, which gave 
the opportunity we desired for investigation. And he in 
turn was very anxious to prove to us that he had the gospel 
we had been praying for, and that it was our duty to believe 
it. But the more we learned from him, of his faith and 
belief, the more fully persuaded we became in our own minds 
that he was not the man we were looking for. His preach¬ 
ing was like his belief,—the letter without the Spirit. 

The summer had nearly slipped away, and we supposed he 
had given up all thought of our accepting his views suffi¬ 
ciently to worship harmoniously with him, for we had never 
thought of leaving our own church at any time. But it 
seems he had not, and put the question to my husband in 
plain words, since he had become weary of waiting, so he 
said, for us to offer ourselves as candidates for membership. 
He appeared very much disappointed and sorrowful when 
Mr. Burton answered him, “No; you must pass on, and we 
will still continue our former prayer, and wait for some one 
else to bring us the spiritual food we desire,” shortly after 
which he moved away from the vicinity. 

Then we got it into our minds that we perhaps ought to 
show our faith by our works. We knew not whether the 
Lord would send a man to preach the gospel or whether he 
would send his Spirit among us, if we met together to wor- 
sihip him, and thus bring forth the gospel; or, more properly 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


141 


speaking, a condition of spiritual life and enjoyment, a re¬ 
ligious interest in the community. At least we might meet 
once a week with those who so desired, and pray for divine 
favor. Brother George and two of our Methodist friends 
were much in favor of the suggestion; namely, a union 
prayer meeting. The two brethren of the Disciple faith 
made several objections, but eventually gave way. But time 
had wrought changes in the community. Mr. and Mrs. Best, 
and Mr. and Mrs. Davison had moved away, leaving only 
ten who would be likely to assist in carrying on meetings; 
four Methodists, three Baptists,—my brother, husband, and 
self,—two of the disciple faith, and one Mr. John Carmichael, 
whom no one in our community at least, knew where to place. 

He claimed to be a stanch believer in Bible Christianity, 
but Piade mincemeat, so to speak, of the faith, creeds, and 
practices of every denomination claiming to be Bible Chris¬ 
tians. The truth was, he had received and preached the 
gospel in its purity in England, and like many other good, 
honest souls, had come to Utah in good faith, expecting to 
find there the pure in heart; but was disappointed, then 
dissatisfied and disgusted, and had sought the solitude of the 
mountainous regions of Northern California, until a year or 
two previous to the time of which I write, when he came to 
San Benito to wait in silence and see what the Lord would 
do for his people. He knew that the gospel had been re¬ 
stored in its fullness, but how could he teach it to others, 
when his own hopes been so rudely blighted? 

These items of past history were not known to any of us 
at that time, and he was regarded as a religious enigma. 
But one thing was plain to us at least; that was that he 
knew a great deal more about the Bible than did his neigh¬ 
bors, ourselves included; and we were anxious to enlist his 
cooperation in our religious enterprise. To this end Mr. 
Burton called upon him and had a long talk. The result 
of his interview was not exactly satisfactory, though there 
were many good things said. But since Mr. Burton had 
never heard of the restored gospel, he was not in a position 
to grasp his thought. However, he promised to attend the 
meetings, but did not seem very sanguine as to any benefit 
being derived from them. It soon became plain to the ob¬ 
server that there was not much ‘^union” in our meetings, 
and also that each one had expected his neighbor to drop his 


142 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


own peculiar views and worship in harmony with his. Some 
were in favor of seeking to gather the young and unconverted 
into the meetings, while others opposed it, saying that the 
sinner could not worship God, neither had he at any time 
commanded the sinner to pray, but his disciples only. 

At one of those evening meetings, while engaged in prayer, 
I made the request so often made by those who are seeking 
a revival in the religious circle; namely, that the Lord would 
grant us a Pentecostal season, that the time might not be far 
distant when such should be enjoyed even in that place. I 
had no sooner said the words than the inward monitor with 
whom I often argued a point, put questions and suggestions 
to me like this; 

“What is a Pentecostal season? Is it not speaking in 
tongues and prophesying? Was that what you meant to 
ask for?” 

“Of course not.” 

“Then hadn’t you better take it back?” 

I admitted that I did not intend to ask for that kind of a 
Pentecostal season. I meant just what everybody else meant 
when they asked for a Pentecostal season, that the Spirit of 
the Lord be poured out upon us and sinners be converted; 
but should not object at all to witness a genuine Pentecostal 
season. No; I should not take it back. 

“But do you think the Lord could answer that prayer when 
such things are not had in these days?” 

“It is not enjoined upon any to find ways and means to 
know how our prayers are going to be answered. The Lord 
has told us to ask, and has set no limit. The rest is his 
to look after.” 

What I said vocally while this mental colloquy was going 
on, or whether I said anything I do not know, but the prayer 
was over, for every other thought had fled. That was my 
last public prayer as a Baptist. 

The various opinions upon the different thoughts pre¬ 
sented in the prayer meeting constituted a theme for con¬ 
versation during the week, which gave our friend, Mr. 
Carmichael an opportunity to talk on the principles of the 
gospel without appearing to seek it, which was just what he 
desired, to usward especially, and many a good long talk 
we had on gospel principles. Upon one of these occasions 
he spoke of the principle of eternal judgment, which fas- 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


143 


- tened itself upon my memory because it was the first time I 
had heard it in that reasonable way, and because it was 
just what I wanted to hear, my mind having been consider¬ 
ably wrought up for a length of time on what appeared to 
me to be the cruelty of eternal burning. 

“Now,” said he, “I do not believe in this everlasting tor¬ 
ment as many do.” 

I for one had never wanted to believe it, but thought I 
must, because the Bible taught it, and all Christian people 
believed it. And it seemed the more religious they were the 
more strenuously they believed and taught hell fire. So 
when I heard him say he did not believe it, I listened with 
my very soul. 

Said I, “Do you not believe there is a place of everlasting 
torment?” 

“Most certainly I do!” he replied. “But I do not believe 
that all who go there will stay everlastingly in it.” 

“And what have you to sustain that belief?” 

“This: ‘Agree with thine adversary quickly, while thou 
art in the way with him; lest at any time the adversary de¬ 
liver thee to the judge, and the judge deliver thee to the 
officer, and thou be cast into prison. Verily I say unto thee. 
Thou shalt by no means come out thence, till thou hast paid 
the uttermost farthing.^—Matthew 5:25, 26. Now if Jesus 
had wished to convey the thought that the prisoner was never 
to come out, he certainly would have used language expres¬ 
sive of such, instead of specifying a time when the imprison¬ 
ment would cease. The word till signifies a limit; that is, 
when he has paid the uttermost demands of the law, he is 
free. I believe,” said he, “a man is judged and punished 
according to his works, as well as rewarded according to 
them. We have our prison houses here in this world, where 
people are punished according to their crime. But what kind 
of justice would it be if the man who committed petty larceny 
was punished just the same as the one who committed man¬ 
slaughter? Every crime has its consequent punishment. 
And so it is with God’s laws. We would not want to think 
that man was more just, reasonable, and merciful than God.” 

This was glad news to me. It sounded reasonable, and I 
believed it. As he continued to talk, the gospel fire that had 
been pent up and smoldering for years must have flamed up 
within him. I listened with rapt attention, and thought I 


144 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


had never heard anyone talk on tne subject of religion with 
so much of the true spirit of it. At length I said, as ear¬ 
nestly as I felt. “M-r. Carmichael! Why donT you preach 
when you have so much of the spirit of the gospel? Why 
withhold the bread of life when so many are starving all 
about you? Spiritually starving,” 

A pained look flitted across his face, as the blood re¬ 
ceded and cauie again; and giving his nose a vigorous rub¬ 
bing, he said pleasantly, “I am afraid the people would not 
hear me as readily as you do, and I should have them all 
getting after me.” 

“Never mind the people,” I replied; “preach Bible truth, 
and let people say what they please.” 

He replied, “Perhaps if I were to preach all that I believe 
to be Bible truth, even you, too, might not believe me.x 
Now if I should teach baptism by immersion as I believe it, 
my Methodist friends would oppose me. And I find the 
Bible teaches that baptism is for the remission of sins. If I 
should preach that, my Baptist friends would oppose me. 
And should' I preach the laying on of hands for the gift of 
the Holy Ghost, as taught in the New Testament, my Dis¬ 
ciple friends, and in fact all denominations would join to 
oppose me on that” 

“Well,” said I, “go to the heathen where there are no de¬ 
nominational beliefs, and preach to them.” 

I do not wonder now at the smile that deepened about the 
corners of his mouth. I almost shrink from exposing my own 
ignorance; but wish to let my readers have the benefit of 
my experience in receiving the gospel. 

My husband was a hearer of the conversation, and had his 
part in it; but since I was the most enthusiastic over it, he 
left it mostly between us two. 

“Well,” continued our friend, “how would you have me 
preach to the heathen? I suppose in the first place I must 
teach them that the Bible is true!” 

“Yes.” 

“And that God is unchangeable—the same always? His 
promises are sure, and that he is no respecter of persons?” 

“Yes, certainly.” 

“Now, when I have taught them that, suppose they take 
up the Bible and read of how the people who believed the 
gospel eighteen hundred years ago and obeyed it, had certain 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


145 


blessings bestowed upon them, such as speaking in tongues, 
and prophesying, healing, and being healed. And suppose 
they ask me if they, too, are to have those things, what am 
I to tell them?” 

“Of course you would have to teach them that those things 
are all done away long ago; that they are not needed now.” 

“How could I, after I had taught them that the Bible 
is true. We read there that Jesus said to his disciples when 
he sent them forth to preach: ‘He that believeth and is 
baptized shall be saved; . . . and these signs shall follow 
them that believe.’ Now if the Bible is true, that is just as 
true to-day as any other part of it.” 

“But they do not follow nowadays; and since they are not 
in the churches, nor have been for nearly eighteen hundred 
years, it is proof enough that they are done away, and it 
must be because they were no longer needed.” 

“We differ in opinion about that,” said he. “I should think 
that if Jesus said certain signs should follow the believer, 
and a time came when they did not follow, it must be be¬ 
cause the people did not believe w^hat they ought to concern¬ 
ing the gospel; otherwise it would make Jesus to be a false 
prophet.” 

This, and much more was said, which to me was alto¬ 
gether a new view of things, and seemed very reasonable. 
But what was to be done? I had never thought that the 
churches had gone out of the way and were teaching the 
Bible to suit the times. Nor did our friend make known to 
us the apostasy that caused the gifts to be withdrawn; nor 
the restoration of the gospel, wherein they were again en¬ 
joyed. So we were left to battle with these perplexing ques¬ 
tions. I thought upon them much, and prayed more earnestly 
for the gospel. 

While dwelling upon this theme, a day or so after the 
foregoing conversation, the thought came to me thus: What 
if the Baptist Church was not the right one after all? What 
if such a thing were possible? And for a moment my head 
fairly swam with the mental “turning of things upside 
down.” And then I smiled at such a thought; for suppose 
it were not the only true church, how could I ever know to 
my entire satisfaction which one was, after living and be¬ 
lieving in that one so long? It was only a random thought, 
and yet it seemed as if the world had turned over. 


146 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


Our union prayer meeting came to a very abrupt termina¬ 
tion, in this wise, one of the Methodist friends whose turn 
it was to lead the meeting, read the good old hymn, “Come 
Holy Spirit, heavenly dove,” when one of our Disciple brethren 
arose and opposed the singing of the hymn, said it was not 
truth because there was no Holy Spirit to come, etc. Mr. 
Burton arose and made the proposition that another hymn 
be selected if that one gave offense or caused a disturbance 
in the meeting, and that the subject be dropped for the eve¬ 
ning, and invited all to come to his house the following eve¬ 
ning and discuss the matter: which discussion resulted in 
the conclusion that a union prayer meeting could not be kept 
up under such an unrelenting division of opinions, and con¬ 
sequently it was abandoned. 

All unknown to us, or those of our neighborhood, there 
had come into a neighborhood some eighteen miles below us, 
two Latter Day Saint elders, and had kept up meetings until 
a branch was built up. Then when they felt that their work 
was done in that place they scarcely knew whether to return, 
or go farther up the San Benito River. Elder Cook wished to 
return to Alameda County. Elder Mills who was president 
of that division, said he would ask the Lord that night and 
they would know in the morning. He did so, and was told 
to go as far as the next settlement, there were people up 
there praying for the gospel, and that, he would go before 
them and prepare the way. 

In the morning of that same night—as I learned after¬ 
wards, I received a peculiar dream—if it was a dream. I 
awoke in the morning, saw the sun shining brightly in the 
room, but instead of springing out of bed, I merged into a 
pleasant swoon or vision in which I seemed to see the sun 
shining all the time. I saw myself on a raised piece of 
ground pinnacle-shaped and it continued to raise till I 
thought my head would come in contact with the canopy 
above, but just at that instant as I looked up, it was as 
though a sharp knife had been drawn across it in the upper 
side just over my head, and a portion rolled upwards, and a 
portion downwards. I said, “The heavens roll together as a 
scroll, sure enough.” 

I continued to be raised until I stood waist high through 
the opening thus made, and heard the words, “See the road to 
heaven.” I looked and saw a high walled road, very nar- 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


147 


row, that led up to and surrounded the shining city. Not 
straight up; there would be an elevation, then a plain, all 
the way like this: 



There were also two broad roads on either side, with low 
walls. As I looked, I said, “If that is the road to heaven, I 
am not in it,” and how can one get in? These low walls might 
be scaled, but never those high walls. One of those broader 
roads led parallel with the high walls till it neared the city, 
then seemed not to have a wall. The other one on the left 
soon branched away from the high wall and led into a dark 
valley. While wondering how I might get into the “road to 
heaven” I looked for the entrance, and thought it was not 
far from me, but very vapory clouds obscured the way be¬ 
tween me and the entrance. Then I awoke feeling very 
glad and happy, notwithstanding I was not in the “road to 
heaven.” I told my husband that I believed I had seen a 
vision. 

This was on a Thursday. And Saturday night when Mr. 
Burton came home from his work, he passed through the 
little settlement of Jefferson where the post office and black¬ 
smith shop and schoolhouse were. He told me he had seen, 
and had a talk with George, who informed him that there 
were two Mormons at Jefferson. 

“Two Mormons!” I replied. “What are they doing here.” 

George said they were wanting to hold meetings. Had 
one in the schoolhouse last night. George attended and said 
he was interested in what they said. While he thus spoke 
I was standing horrified, and with a feeling of resentment,— 


148 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


I expressed the belief that they were hunting more wives, 
and ought to be driven out of the place. 

“But,” said Joseph, “they claim to be preachers of the 
gospel, and we should not condemn them before we hear. 
Perhaps they are bringing the gospel that we have been 
praying for.” 

I gave him a look of withering scorn, for I was getting 
angry because he was pleading for them. He then told me 
that they were going to have meeting again that evening in 
the schoolhouse, and he thought he would go and hear what 
they had to say, and asked me if I would not go, too, adding 
that they had been holding meetings quite a while down the 
creek at San Benito, and had eighteen followers. I refused 
to go, most decidedly. 

I had never heard of Latter Day Saints, nor Mormons 
either, except what our genial traveling companion through 
the Territory told us. I had heard of Brigham Young and his 
many wives, but knew nothing about the Mormon faith or 
doctrine, or that they made claim to any. This was owing 
to the fact of our being British subjects and living on the 
extreme eastern end of the continent till we came to Cali¬ 
fornia. My husband having followed the sea, we were not 
interested or informed of what took place in America. The 
event of the restoration of the gospel was in the past, the 
prophet having been slain the year that I was born. 

My Saturday evening was a great disappointment. When 
Mr. Burton worked away from home Saturday evening was 
looked forward to with pleasant anticipations and never be¬ 
fore had he failed to remain at home. Now to think that 
he would leave me by myself—with the children—I thought 
was dreadful, forgetting that if I had accepted his invita¬ 
tion to go with him I might have had a nice drive of three 
miles but there were the children that I could not very well 
take or leave either. 

On Sunday morning he prepared to go again. It seemed 
to me that things were becoming serious, I had never been 
neglected that way before. True, he tried to persuade me 
to go, too, but this I refused to do. Then he wished to 
bring the elders home to dinner. At first I objected to that, 
saying that the Apostle Paul had said, “If any come to you 
and bring not this gospel, receive them not into your house. 
Neither bid them Godspeed.” I did not know that the very 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


149 


gospel that they were bringing was the gospel that Paul re¬ 
ferred to, instead of one that was shorn of its ancient powers 
and blessings such as I already had. 

“Yes,” said Joseph, “but it is also written, ‘Be not forget¬ 
ful to entertain strangers, for thereby some have entertained 
angels unawares,’ and it is always right to be hospitable. 
No one took them home last night. Old Mr. Fales sent them 
to the hotel, and he paid their way, and even if they are 
Mormons they get hungry.” 

I felt no apprehensions of their being angels but knew it 
was wrong not to be hospitable to strangers, and heretofore 
I had taken pleasure in receiving and giving food to any 
stranger who came to the house, notwithstanding our limited 
means. So I consented to have him bring them home with 
him. 

I looked with sadness upon him driving away alone that 
bright Sunday morning in our double-seated wagon behind 
two horses. I prepared the best I had, and treated the visi¬ 
tors with cold politeness. Elder D. S. Mills was not with 
them; it was Elder J. R. Cook and Priest J. Henderson, a 
raw recruit. Had Brother D. S. Mills been with them, I 
am sure his genial manner would have thawed my frigid 
feelings, or perhaps if I had heard any of the conversation 
I might have become interested. 

I did not relish the situation at all, having my husband go 
off three evenings in succession, or rather three times; two 
of them being evenings to attend a Mormon meeting. He 
had never done so before, not to attend any kind of a meet¬ 
ing, and I felt very much abused. But my attention was 
turned in another direction when he came home Sunday eve¬ 
ning and told me he believed George was going to join them. 
I was hurt, provoked, angry, and sorry altogether, and when 
George came home awhile on Monday, I poured forth my 
vials of wrath, but all to no effect; he never made a single 
compromise. After he went away I had a good cry. I had 
thrown out the supposition that he would soon be going off 
to Salt Lake, and he only said he did not know but he would. 
I foresaw, as I thought, that it would be my unpleasant duty 
to write home to his wife and our family, explaining matters. 
So concluded I should have to go myself, and hear what it 
was that was carrying George away, and on Monday evening 


150 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


I went also. Mr. Burton was becoming too much interested 
to miss a meeting. 

It was young Henderson’s turn to preach, and his sub¬ 
ject was the evidence of living prophets. It was not a very 
profitable sermon to me. Elder Cook then arose and spoke 
awhile, and soon riveted my attention. When he quoted 
the sixth and seventh verses of the fourteenth of Revela¬ 
tion, a soothing feeling came all over me; and as he touched 
on the plan of salvation, the unchangeability of God and of 
the gospel, I felt as if that was what I had been wanting to 
hear all my life. But I tried to steel my feelings against it, 
saying within myself, I must not be deceived, for we are told 
that there is something coming in the last days that would 
deceive, if possible, the very elect. However, there was 
something he touched upon that I wanted very much to ask 
questions on. 

When meeting was dismissed, I said to my husband, “I 
suppose we might possibly make room for these men to-night, 
at least one of them, if they have no place to go.” 

This, after telling him the night before it was utterly 
impossible to do so. I did not say anything about wanting 
to talk with them; but as soon as we reached the house we 
all sat down at the table and talked till twelve o’clock. 
Whenever he spoke of the one way, the one true church, and 
that, too, being the way that I was not in, my pleasant dream 
or vision would loom up before me. I was interested in 
asking questions that night, and during the coming week; 
but was by no means convinced of all. During that week I 
had another dream. I heard beautiful music in the air, 
“golden music.” Wherever the sound reached, it made every¬ 
thing look like gold; the fields, fences, and all. And I was 
told that whoever heard that music should be saved. Then 
I saw that both my husband and I had an accordeon in our 
hands, helping to swell that music farther and wider. I per¬ 
ceived that it was keeping to one side of the road where we 
were standing, and though it was extending on far from 
us, over hills and up into the valleys, it did not go across 
the road, so I faced the direction I wished it to go, and drew 
and pressed vigorously, but it would not go in that direction. 
Presently it began to die away in the air, and as I per¬ 
ceived this, I tried harder to play more strongly, that the 
sound might not cease altogether. But as sdon as our in- 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


151 


strumental music was heard above that in the air, it pro¬ 
duced a discord; so we, too, ceased. 

The impressions of those dreams, more than the dreams 
themselves, caused me to look well into the new thoughts pre¬ 
sented by these men, before dismissing them. I saw readily 
that they had a superior knowledge of the Scriptures, still 
we had not the perfect faith to accept it at once as some 
have had, but must be convinced of all. 

After learning that they were antagonistic to polygamy 
and the kindred evils practiced in Utah, and were of a 
separate faith and organization, I put away my feeling of 
animosity, and regarded them as being honest and sincere in 
their belief. And as I told Elder Cook, “If the kingdom of 
God is again set up on the earth, as you say, I want to know 
it; but possibly you may be deceived in the matter.” 

I could look back and see the situation of those who re¬ 
jected the apostles^ doctrine because they thought it was 
not true, but did not put themselves in the way to find out. 
I did not wish to be deceived, neither did I wish to reject 
truth. One would produce an effect as disastrous as the 
other. It was a trying situation, and although we canvassed 
the ground steadily, we went slowly. Had I not been a mem¬ 
ber of a church of any kind, I should perhaps have accepted 
at once. But from childhood I had received the impression 
that it was a great wrong to leave one church and join 
another. I had heard some way that after a person had been 
baptized by immersion, had received a change of heart, had 
felt that his sins were forgiven, then if such a one should 
depart from that—should be rebaptized—and join another 
church, he was denying the faith and, putting Christ to 
an open shame. So there was a wall of difficulty on both 
sides. 

Sometimes the elders essayed to speak of Joseph Smith 
being a prophet, and about the Book of Mormon containing 
the fullness of the gospel. But we preferred to let that part 
of it bide its time, telling them it was neither here nor there 
to us whether Joseph Smith was a prophet and the Book 
of Mormon a sacred record, or whether it was not. We 
wished to predicate our faith on the word of God contained 
in the Bible we had always known. If there was not suf¬ 
ficient in that to convince us and the world of the truth of 
their gospel message, we could not receive it, Time revealed 


162 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


to us that there was a great sufficiency of proof in our own 
Bible; that what we had heretofore believed to be the gospel 
was only a very small portion of it. Day by day the props 
to our former position were taken away, and went to 
strengthen the propositions that were being made to us. 

In the meantime Elder D. S. Mills came, and when he 
opened the Bible there seemed to be twice as much in it as 
ever there was before. Under his ministering of the word 
our props disappeared faster than ever, and our strongholds 
became weak. As for myself, I was convinced in word; 
still there was an inward holding back—a fearfulness; and 
while that remained with me, I could go no further. 

I said to Elder Mills at one time, “If ever I should join 
your church it will be with this understanding, that if after¬ 
wards I find it is not what you have claimed for it, or if 
those things that we hear about from our neighbors of tyr¬ 
anny and oppression are true, I shall leave it.” (For Madam 
Rumor and all her family were busy in warning us against 
the hidden evils that we would leam of afterwards.) 

“That’s right,” said Elder Mills, “and if you ever should 
have any such cause to leave the church, just let me know, 
and I will leave it too.” 

On a day when Mr. Burton went to take the elders down 
to the San Benito Branch, and the children were at school, 
I had the day to myself to read and think. After reading 
one or two tracts—the subject getting clearer all the time— 
I took up another, “The fullness of the atonement.” Truly 
those pages must have been lit up by the Spirit of the Lord, 
by which I read between the lines, also causing me to let go 
my unbelief and hardness of heart; desiring to let go every¬ 
thing, but to do the will of God and accept the truth. As I 
read the last words, “Come Lord Jesus; yea, come quickly,” 
I repeated them with all the fervency of my own feelings— 
“Yea, come quickly!” at the same time falling upon my knees 
in prayer. 

Oh, what a flood of light came down upon me, filling my 
soul with a light and joy not experienced before. I now 
“believed the gospel”—^this living, active, far-reaching gos¬ 
pel of the Son of God—which brought the next world, which 
had heretofore been so vague and misty, very near, and re¬ 
vealed it as a reality. And I saw the necessity of baptism 
for the remission of sins in order to become a new creature 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


153 


in Christ Jesus, and saw by contrast how maimed was the 
church to which I had been clinging,—in organization, in 
officers, in faith, and in power. All were groping as in the 
dark in spiritual things. How limited the spiritual knowl¬ 
edge received in all my former life when compared with what 
was then given; glimpses of the state of the dead, the res- 
'urrection and the millennium. 

It seemed to me when I arose from my knees that all my 
former self had gone. I was like a new creature in a new 
• world. That darkness had given place to light, and as I 
moved about, I scarcely knew whether I touched the ground 
or not. 

“Oh, what a faith is this!’’ I exclaimed. “No wonder the 
saints of old could cheerfully suffer martyrdom for a re¬ 
ligion so glorious as this! They, too, received this knowledge. 
And with such knowledge it seemed to me that there could 
be nothing in the world that could cause real unhappiness. 
Trouble and perplexities might occur, but this knowledge 
would ever be an anchor to the soul, that would outride 
them all. Even the sting of deaths—the death of our dearest 
ones—would be swallowed up in victory. 

Such triumphs are not of long duration to the children of 
earth. They are given as blessed foretastes of what shall 
be. Yet in the goodness of God the light was not withdrawn 
suddenly, but wore away with the succeeding days. It did 
not belong to earth, and therefore could not remain. But 
the knowledge remained. There never was a time in my 
life that I felt so free from sin as I then did, nor was there 
ever a time when I was so anxious to be baptized for the 
remission of sins. “Why so?” Because the past record had 
not been changed, though the Lord had graciously granted 
this outpouring of his Spirit. 

Do any of my readers wonder how this could be, if my 
sins were not forgiven? Let me illustrate. I have a very 
dear friend who has done much for me. In due time I am 
shown my indebtedness. I acknowledge the debt and give 
satisfactory evidence that I am willing to pay; yea, desirous 
to, at my earliest convenience, which time shall not be delayed 
by any act of mine. I have pledged myself to comply with 
all legal demands. Therefore, I am not treated as an enemy, 
neither is the debt canceled nor the record balanced until I 
have done my part. Cornelius was visited by an angel. 


154 


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who told him he was loved of God. And the Holy Spirit was 
also poured out upon him; yet, after this season of rejoicing 
in the blessings of God, it was necessary for him to be 
baptized. 

Mr. Burton continued his investigation for about two 
weeks longer, there being some points that he did not feel 
fully satisfied on, the last of which was “predestination.” 
He and Brother Mills had several talks about it, both pro¬ 
ducing their Scripture evidence. At length Brother Mills 
said, “I see I have not satisfied you upon that subject, but 
the Lord will give you the knowledge upon it that you 
desire.” 

The seventh of December dawned upon us dull and gloomy, 
rain descending copiously in the early morning. For some 
reason I felt depressed in spirit. Brother Mills was soon 
to return to Alameda County, and Mr. Burton had not re¬ 
ceived the knowledge he desired. After breakfast the rain 
ceased to fall so heavily, and Mr. Burton went out to feed 
the horses. While out at this work the promise or state¬ 
ment made by Brother Mills, that the Lord would give him 
the knowledge he desired, was verified. When he came in 
he told me he had received the light he desired; and added, 
“Now I ami ready to be baptized if you are.” 

“Yes,” I replied, “I am ready.” 

“Then I will go hitch up the horses and go over for 
George, while you finish your work and get our clothes 
ready.” 

I didn’t stop to make much of a finish, but left things about 
as they were and was ready with the children by the time 
he came up to the door. George, who was only waiting for 
us, went along and was baptized at the same time. The 
elders were both at Brother CarmichaeTs at that time, and 
thither we went. Our new neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Page, 
had become interested in the work, too, and having heard 
her express a desire to witness a baptism by immersion, we 
called as we passed along and let them know. They, too, 
were present. 

The clouds hung dark and heavy. As we drove along, I 
lifted my heart to God in prayer, asking him to manifest 
to us his presence and approval of our act, by causing the 
clouds to separate, that the sun might shine down upon us 
clear and bright. Presently there appeared a beautiful spot 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


155 


of blue sky, and as directly above the house to which we 
were going as the eye could measure. I called my husband’s 
attention to it, telling him how I had just asked that token 
of our heavenly Father’s approval of our act. A few 
minutes before we reached the house, the sun shone down 
bright and warm. 

Brother Carmichael greeted us cordially as we entered the 
house, saying, “You have brought the sunshine!” without 
knowing how much of truth those words contained. He 
was a trifle surprised when he learned our errand. Prepara¬ 
tions were soon made for repairing to the water. 

Never shall I forget the hallowed sensation that pervaded 
my whole being, as I stood for a moment after being raised 
from the waters of baptism, enveloped in the glorious sun¬ 
light. Never did the warm rays of the sun penetrate so 
quickly, and yet so mellow in its warmth and brightness. 
How different from that other baptism which took place 
nineteen years previous! The words that I uttered at that 
time, as I stepped from the cold, rushing stream on the 
icebound shore, namely, “/ will be baptized better than this 
some day/* were now fulfilled. This latter baptism was 
“better,” inasmuch as the authority from God is better 
than that of man. (Though it was my behavior I had ref¬ 
erence to.) 

It was only a few steps from the water back to the house; 
but before we had exchanged our wet clothes for dry ones, 
the clouds had rolled together again, and the rain descended 
as heavily as in the morning. 

I had followed my Lord and Savior in the waters of bap¬ 
tism, but the work was not ended there. I must needs fol¬ 
low him also into the wilderness of feeling, and be tempted 
of the Devil. It was arranged for us to remain and take 
dinner, and have the confirmation meeting in the afternoon. 
As soon as I had put on dry clothes and come into the room 
where the company were, a heavy depression settled down 
upon me, that seemed to be smothering me. The light that 
I had received, and even the testimony, were obscured. I 
felt as if I should die. I knew I could not resist an exhibi¬ 
tion of feeling, and not wishing to attract attention, I made 
my escape out in the pouring rain, and into Mr. Carmichael’s 
shoe shop; and kneeling at his bench, among the bits of 
leather, gave vent to my feelings in convulsive weeping and 


156 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


sobbing, trying to pray, but could not. A sense of utter 
desolation seized me. I felt to be cut off from all the world, 
and my people would never own me again. 

In this paroxysm of grief, that the powers of darkness 
had brought upon me, Mrs. Carmichael found me. Hereto¬ 
fore, I had scarcely heard her speak of her thoughts and 
feelings in regard to the latter-day work, much less her 
experience in it. But at that time she spoke freely, telling 
me of her trials when she first joined the church in England, 
when only a young girl, and how her father turned against 
her. Though she was all alone, and had to seek her own 
living, she never was sorry that she obeyed the gospel and 
joined the church, for she knew it was true. 

“My child,” said she, “you will never be sorry for what you 
have done to-day. You believe the work is of God, but ere 
long you shall know it. This is only the temptation of the 
Adversary seeking to destroy your faith. If your people 
should disown you, you have your husband with you, and 
the Lord will be with you, too, and you will soon see that 
it is all right.” 

Elder Mills confirmed both my husband and me. Much of 
the Spirit was manifest at our confirmation, and many 
blessings pronounced upon us, after which ordinance a 
peaceful feeling returned to me. 

There was no branch for us to unite with. We were the 
first fruits of the place, and stood alone, until Brother and 
Sister Carmichael, Sister Page, and one or two others were 
baptized about a week later, and a branch of the church 
organized. Brother Carmichael president, and my husband 
presiding priest. Both he and Brother George were ordained 
priests. What comfort we took in that little branch, and 
what good meetings we had, even if there were not more 
than four or five present. In due time the promise made by 
the Lord Jesus eighteen hundred years before, to a people 
who were amazed and in doubt, not knowing what to do 
about joining themselves to the new doctrine that was then 
being taught; namely, “If any man will do his will (speak¬ 
ing of the Father who sent him) he shall know of the doc¬ 
trine, whether it be of God, or whether I speak of myself,” 
was verified, for after we had done the will of the Father, 
we received a knowledge which no man could give, that these 
men had not spoken of themselves, nor had we followed any 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


157 


cunningly devised fable. They had declared to us the resto¬ 
ration of the gospel in its fullness, attended by the gifts, 
blessings, and powers that characterized it in former days. 
And when I heard speaking in tongues and prophesying in 
that place within a year from the time our “union prayer 
meeting” was started, I remembered my prayer, and I real¬ 
ized of a truth that nothing was impossible with God to 
those that believed. And how hungry we were for gospel 
food, and to know concerning the dealings of God with his 
people in these last days. 

The Bible became a new book to us, notwithstanding all 
our former study of it. And having received of the same 
Spirit by which it was written, we were brought in touch 
with those who wrote and could in a great measure enter 
into their feelings and understand clearly many things that 
heretofore were mysteries to us. How beautiful it all was! 
What cared we though the neighborhood was in a furore, and 
all sorts of evil stories in circulation concerning the work, 
its founders, and its followers, ourselves included? It was 
to us as the clamoring and kicking of an angry child. They 
had all their trouble for nothing. It neither disturbed us, 
hurt our feelings, made us angry, nor sorry; only sorry that 
they did not know the things that made for their peace. We 
knew we had been transplanted into the kingdom of God’s 
dear Son, wherein was light, and joy, and peace. Our hearts 
were filled with the Spirit of light and of revelation, and 
we feasted on the good things from the Father’s table in 
testimonies and: literal answers to prayer; a few of which 
I will give as we pass along. 

It will be remembered that we did not accept or investigate 
the subject—before coming into the church—of whether the 
founder of the church was, as was claimed, a prophet of 
God; neither had we considered the necessity of a prophet or 
prophets, in carrying on the work of the Lord. During the 
week between Christmas and New Year’s Day, Mr. Burton 
received a night vision, wherein he was shown the number 
of prophets that were to be in the last days, together with 
other instruction pertaining to the gospel dispensation. We 
both felt very anxious to know whether such had been given 
of God, as true instruction, or if it was simply a dream; 
and agreed that each ask the Lord to confirm the testimony 
to us respectively, if it was of him; and that we would first 


158 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


consider well in our hearts what to ask, so that if it was 
worthy of being confirmed there could be no doubt about 
what was given as confirmation. 

Now I had been administered to several times in behalf 
of regaining my hearing, and the blessing had been promised 
“in the due time of the Lord.’^ Therefore I felt confident 
that it was in the power of the Lord to give, and this was 
the testimony. I asked the Lord to give me my hearing for 
one day, which should be on the coming New Year’s Day, 
because all the branch were invited to take dinner and spend 
a social day at the house of the branch president. Brother 
' J. Carmichael, and thus others would know also. And be it 
known to the world that I enjoyed one day’s respite from 
deafness on the first day of the year 1874, from the first 
waking in the morning until the sleeping at night. The 
Saints rejoiced with me, believing I had received my hearing 
permanently, till I informed them of what is already writ¬ 
ten. True, I entertained a hope that it might be perma- 
ment, but scarcely an expectation. Should any of my readers 
be in doubt about the matter, I refer them to Sister Mary 
J. Page, of San Benito, San Benito County, California, now 
of Independence, Missouri. 

The Lord gave according to his word, line upon line, and 
precept upon precept. Having learned more of the coming 
forth of the Book of Mormon, and its relation to the restora¬ 
tion of the gospel, I began to read it with a degree of faith. 
But traditions and unbelief are not easily gotten rid of, and 
I often felt the unbidden thought putting itself into words 
like this, “If I only knew that the records were found, and 
that this is the true translation of them, and that Joseph 
Smith did not fix it up himself to suit the occasion, I could 
read it with so much more faith.” 

One evening as I had about finished reading, I chanced to 
turn to the last chapter in the book and read—without 
knowing before that it was there—the promise made by the 
ancient prophet, that if anyone would ask God, in the name 
of Christ, with a sincere heart, if these things are true, he 
would manifest it unto them. Here, thought I, is all I need, 
and acted upon the promise given. It was made to those to 
whom the book should come, and I was one of them. I asked 
the Lord in my prayer, just before retiring for the night, 
to make known to me if the book was true. Instantly upon 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


169 


retiring, there came a great noise that filled the whole house 
like a concussion of some metallic substance. For the mo¬ 
ment I felt terrified. But out of the big noise came the dis¬ 
tinct words, “The records were found, and they do testify of 
the truth.” 

Those words took fear away and gave joy instead. And 
as day after day I continued to read the book, my faith in 
it, and its divine origin, was increased to that extent that 
had I not had those testimonies the book itself would have 
proven to me—ere long—one of two things, either that the 
book was all that is claimed for it—an ancient record brought 
forth by the power of God, or that Joseph Smith was a man 
of greater mental ability than all the prophets that ever 
wrote, and all the good men whom the world has and does 
honor as “reformers.” Why? Because it would require 
a greater mind, and greater wisdom to select quotations 
from the Bible, and so compile them as not to antagonize 
the Bible version. And not only that, but to make plain the 
meaning of many other Bible passages, and to fill in with 
explanations upon those deep questions that have puzzled 
the great theological minds of every age for eighteen hun¬ 
dred years and more, than to speak or write the words 
given by inspiration, requiring no human sagacity of mind. 

Which of the “reformers” has been wise enough to estab¬ 
lish a church in all things exactly after the pattern of the 
church that existed in the days of the apostles? and also to 
foresee and foretell what would be the leading events in 
the world's history after the establishment of that church 
on to the end? These self-evidences that the book carried 
with it went further to establish its divinity in my mind than 
anything that could have been told me by another. And 
now comes the thought. How contradictory is the belief that 
an evil-designing man should take such trouble, and endure 
such contradictions of circumstances and people, to vindicate 
the words of the prophets and the apostles! also the gifts, 
blessings, and powers of the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ, 
indeed the Son of God, the Savior of the world. Who ever 
heard tell of a knave being engaged in such a work? Or of 
a thief exerting himself to give a better translation of the 
Bible than the wisdom of the world has been able to produce ? 
And how utterly impossible that a youth, a farmer boy, who 
had to work for a living, outlining the history of a people 


160 


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dating back six hundred years before Christ on down to the 
end, following them closely till after the coming of Christ— 
that harmonized with such nice exactness with prophecies 
that are scattered all through the Bible. 

Thus those evidences, together with the testimonies received, 
thoroughly established in my mind the prophetic mission of 
the founder of the church. 

Mr. Burton was ordained an elder on May 4, 1874, at a two- 
day meeting held at the San Benito Branch, under the hands 
of A. H. Smith, D. S. Mills, and Hervey Green. Those meet¬ 
ings will be remembered as seasons of rejoicing and feasting 
on the good things of the kingdom by all who were present, 
but the ordination was not hailed with joy by me. On the 
contrary, I felt sad and grieved over it; sad because I was 
selfish. Heretofore our lives had been entirely centered in 
each other. Our poverty and loneliness, after coming to 
California, had drawn us more closely together, so that the 
presence of each seemed more indispensably necessary to the 
other. One reason was because our life had become nar¬ 
rowed down to such a small circle, our whole interests were 
centered in each other, our children, and our home sur¬ 
roundings; and how could I, who could not even enjoy a 
meeting if my husband was not sitting by me, look forward 
to the time when his interest and duties would be elsewhere 
without feeling my loss and loneliness in anticipation? 

At the close of these meetings, and after most of the peo¬ 
ple had started for their homes, I was again administered 
to—as I continued to be from time to time—for my hearing, 
and also for the removal of other afflictions. Several elders 
were present. The four, whose hands were laid upon my head, 
followed each other in prayer. The Holy Spirit was mani¬ 
fest in much power. It seemed as if the whole house trembled 
while Brother Green spoke in tongues, and prophesied con¬ 
cerning us taking the gospel to our people. The interpreta¬ 
tion was given to Brother Mills in open vision. Addressing 
me, he said, “I saw you standing on high ground, in a circle 
of light, with arms extended in an inviting manner towards 
your people, several of whom were coming towards you. I 
saw one of your sisters—who resembles you in form and 
features—come up and take her stand in the light, and 
others were following. Your mother came up, and casting 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


161 


her arms about your neck, remained leaning her head upon 
your shoulder.” 

Again a few months later, on the first evening after reach¬ 
ing the conference grounds at Washington Corners, an elder 
who was a stranger to me, and who I had no reason to sup¬ 
pose knew that I had crossed the continent, while administer¬ 
ing, said, “The Lord has brought you over many lands that 
you might receive the gospel, and you shall be instrumental 
in his hands, in bringing many of your people into the 
church.” 

Then I realized that the gospel was the “light in the dis¬ 
tance,” and that it was for this purpose the Spirit of the 
Lord had moved upon our hearts to leave our kindred, friends, 
and associations, and cross “many lands”—States—and lo¬ 
cate in a new country, apart from the church privileges we 
had been accustomed to; first that we might hunger for the 
word of God; and again, be free from the influences that 
might deter us from accepting it when it came. I feel to 
exclaim as one of old, “Oh, how great the wisdom and the 
goodness of our God!” Our hearts were made glad with the 
thought that we could return to our people again, and some 
of them at least would rejoice in what they now counted a re¬ 
proach to us, and a reproach to them because of us. This 
latter sentence was my only cause for sorrow in our newly 
acquired faith. 

After the first few weeks the traveling elders only visited 
us occasionally—and I am sorry to remember how little rest 
we gave them when they did come. Being so anxious to learn 
more of this great work, which to us became more beauti¬ 
ful and interesting as we advanced in knowledge concerning 
it, and not having much preaching, we the more often put 
in practice the admonition of the Apostle James, “If any man 
lack wisdom, let him ask of God who giveth to all men liber¬ 
ally and upbraideth not, and it shall be given him.” We 
asked much, received much, both in immediate answer to 
prayer and by inspired dreams. It was so good to know 
that the Lord was not such a long way off that it took 
prayers a long time to reach him, and then some time must 
elapse in which the answer must be mixed up or obscured in 
events and circumstances so as not to be recognized when 
received (according to the then sectarian theory), that I felt 
to ask in the same confidence for things of a temporal nature 


162 


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when needed, as the spiritual; and learned for myself that 
the ear of the All-Father was just as quick to hear, and the 
hand as ready to bestow the latter as the former. I was 
sho^vn also that it was more pleasing to him to give good 
gifts than poor ones; to give much than little, and that it 
was slighting to his bounteous love to be content with a mere 
pittance, either spiritually or temporally, and also that the 
giving was governed largely by the asking. In this the 
Scriptures bear us out. Saint Paul said, “Covet earnestly the 
best gifts.” The Apostle James says, “Ye have not, because 
ye ask not.” But let it be remembered always that the ask¬ 
ing must be in faith. 

I, like many another, had a very exalted idea of what the 
ministers of a gospel, through which such powers and bless¬ 
ings were conveyed, should be. I thought they must neces¬ 
sarily be just as much more profoundly pious and decorous 
in their deportment, than the sectarian ministers, as the 
message they bore was superior in power and reality to 
theirs. I did not yet realize how far superior religious works 
were to religious appearance, and that the religion of the 
foiTner consisted in keeping the commands of God and doing 
them, rather than keeping a long face, and a quiet manner. 
In the history of the former dispensation of this gospel we 
saw not the ministry in their everyday life. It was only in 
the gospel work, and mostly when the power of God was 
manifest through them, that is revealed to us, and even in 
that we find an instance where Peter cursed and swore in 
the very presence of his Lord. And that the Apostles Paul 
and Barnabas had a dispute so sharp that they parted 
asunder from each other, and traveled different ways, as seen 
in Acts 15, which contention in everyday live, would be called 
a quarrel. But I had failed to see that, and looked for per¬ 
fect consistency in all men alike, regardless of their different 
temperament and mental capacity, and of course was some¬ 
times destined to be disappointed. 

Therefore feoling much grieved upon one occasion because 
of instances of undue lightness, or frivolousness on the part 
of the ministry, and severity on other denominations, and 
fearing that the work of the Lord would be seriously dam¬ 
aged because of such, husband and I were having a long talk 
one evening of what we thought ought, and ought not to be. 
We wondered if the prophet knew of whatever might be 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


163 


likely to exert an influence detrimental to the cause? I 
thought a prophet must surely know everything, at least that 
which pertained to the church. I am aware, reader, that 
I am publishing my own ignorance, but I have a motive. 

We had never seen Brother Joseph, the prophet, but had 
been informed that he was a genial, approachable man, and 
not easily bothered. I thought within myself. Now I will find 
out for myself whether he really is a prophet or not. We al¬ 
ready believed, that is, we accepted it; but I had had no per¬ 
sonal evidence save that in regard to the number of proph¬ 
ets in the last days. I at once brought out writing material 
and wrote a long letter, addressing it to Brother Joseph. T 
wrote freeely upon the “whys and wherefores,” and read it 
to my husband, then tucked it in the front of the stove and 
watched it burn up, and then said, “Now, if the Lord has a 
prophet at the head of the church, let him answer that let¬ 
ter through the Herald.’* Then figured up the time to see 
if we might expect the answer in the next Herald. 

Mr. Burton said,.“He will have to answer it pretty quick, 
if we do.” 

It was with a little more than the usual interest that 
we undid the wrapper of our next “little Herald” of June 1, 
1874, and sought the editorial corner, and with bated breath 
read the contents. Had my letter been before him he could 
not have answered it more minutely. The editor—Brother 
Joseph—commences with the words, “To write or not to 
write; that is the question.” And after some more words, 
from which we learn that it was a feeling of duty rathej* 
than inclination that prompts him to do so, he says, “Upon 
awakening this morning, the first conscious thought was— 
‘What is the duty of a traveling minister? He must be a 
man of sober mind, and staid deportment.’ ” And then he 
questioned, “Whence came this thought? By what sug¬ 
gested? What association of ideas, facts, and principles, 
if any, called these thoughts to the front at the moment of 
conscious wakefulness? Is there a necessity for any further 
teaching upon the duty or duties of the elders traveling 
abroad? Who shall answer these questions?” He then an¬ 
swered the questions by course. 

I felt a little sorry to know I had been the “first cause” of 
his being impelled to write such a lengthy article when he did 
not feel one bit like writing. But had he known the joy and 


164 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


the gratification that editorial brought to us two, it would 
have been ample compensation for the effort. And that one 
will be long remembered when other editorials written with 
greater alacrity will have passed into oblivion. I some¬ 
times think uneducated faith is the strongest, at least till it 
is properly educated; just as a little child—^because of his 
lack of knowledge—will ask and receive of his parents what 
an older one would not feel justified in asking. 


CHAPTER 8 


O UR children entered into the spirit of the gospel with as 
much zeal and earnestness, according to their years, as 
ourselves, and the two who were old enough, Frank and Dora, 
soon followed us in baptism. The prophetic blessing pro¬ 
nounced by Elder Mills upon Frank at his confirmation dif¬ 
fered in some respects from any I have heard. Among 
other things was: He should receive an inheritance in Zion, 
and his riches would be as the riches of Solomon; and he 
would use them with the wisdom of Solomon. The poor and 
the needy should seek unto him for succor, and none should 
be sent away empty, because he would remember his own 
needs when a poor boy. And many should call him blessed. 
The priesthood he should have by right of lineage or inherit¬ 
ance from his father. Yet it did not seem apparent from 
the words spoken that he would ever be a traveling elder, 
but rather to grant him a voice in the councils of his 
brethren. 

Elder Mills exhorted him to be faithful, and neglect not 
his prayers to God. I believe the above was spoken by the 
Spirit, and therefore put it on record. 

We remained in San Benito nearly two years after we 
embraced the gospel, during which time our condition in 
every way had been steadily improving. Through frequent 
administrations those fearful headaches were almost dis¬ 
pelled, and neuralgia gave way for a time, and I enjoyed 
a good degree of health. Better success crowned our efforts 
in temporal matters also. The comforts of a home seemed 
to grow up around us more rapidly. Money came in faster, 
and went farther than heretofore. 

If any should ask what the gospel has to do with that, I 
answer, a great deal, as I believe it. By having the servants 
of God with us ofttimes, many a fervent prayer was offered 
in our behalf by them that we never would have had offered 
had they never come unto us. And becoming children of the 
great King, by adoption, we asso became heirs to whatever 
promises were made by him to his children, whether tem¬ 
poral or spiritual, according to our faith and obedience. 
Realizing this, we could ask for aid in greater faith than 
heretofore; and a little with God’s blessing spends farther 
and does more good than much where the blessing is not 


166 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


Our prospects had never been so favorable for making a 
good living since Mr. Burton left the sea as at that time, 
provided he stayed at home to work the place. But he had 
been ordained to preach the gospel, and had promised the 
Lord he would devote his life in his service. He had made 
several very successful preaching tours in Santa Barbara 
County and other places, and was anxious to devote far more 
time to the good work. And since we were paying interest 
on five hundred dollars, the only way that seemed open to us 
was to sell our place, pay our debts, and get a smaller place 
in fruit and vegetable soil, where a home could be made com¬ 
fortable with much less work and expense, so that he could 
devote half his time at least to the ministry, and also where 
there would be better school advantages for the children. 
To this end we asked the Lord, who knew all the purposes 
of our hearts, to send us a buyer for our place, though we 
were undecided where to locate. 

About that time there were tidings wafted from the south 
that good dands could be bought cheap in Los Angeles 
County,—now Orange County,—and that a better living could 
be made on twenty acres there than on one hundred and 
sixty in San Benito. Brother J. G. Walker was going down 
to see the country, with a view to locating, and persuaded 
Mr. Burton to go also. My husband did not like the low, 
level country with its dense fogs, and on his return from 
his long, hard journey of two hundred and fifty miles each 
way, our home in the hills, where the air was light and pure, 
looked so good to him, he resolved not to sell at all, and at 
once added another thousand dollars to the price of our place 
so no one would buy it; saying to me, “If anyone comes now 
and offers me two thousand, two hundred and fifty dollars 
cash down, I will think it is the Lord’s will that we should 
sell and go down there.” We were on Government land and 
had no title. 

Not many weeks after this Brother Meeder, of Santa Cruz, 
who desired to buy a farm for his granddaughter and her 
husband, learning that ours was for sale, came up, he and 
Mr. Hinds, to look at the place. Mr. Burton went with 
them all over the ranch; over the hills of the pasture land 
and the level grain land, saying no words of recommendation, 
neither disparagement, knowing Brother Meeder was not a 
stranger to the various qualities of California land. How 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


167 


vividly the vision of that afternoon has ever remained in my 
memory. The sun had nearly made his day’s journey from 
the eastern range of hills, across to the western, when the 
men returned from their tour over the ranch, and the two 
visitors sat down on the woodpile, where the house threw a 
friendly shadow across it, to talk over their pros and cons 
by themselves. And as they talked they looked at our 
“band” of fowls—^between three and four hundred—scattered 
over the stubble field, picking up their evening meal of 
scattered grain. 

Mr. Burton had gone to the bam to care for the horses, 
while I busied myself about getting up as good a supper as 
a country without vegetables would admit of, substituting 
rich cream, sweet butter, and fresh eggs in their stead, 
which our guests from the city partook of with relish. Just 
as the moon had lifted her full round face above the hills, 
Mr. Burton and I excused ourselves, took our two milk pails 
and went to the corral to milk, and to pet our cows and 
young stock, wondering how long they would be ours. They 
seemed so much like a part of the family, it made the tears 
come to my eyes to think of parting with them. 

In the morning Mr. Burton was told by the gentlemen 
that they would accept his terms and take the place. I was 
not surprised, for I had received what I considered a knowl¬ 
edge, some time prior, that we were to leave that place and 
go south. And now it became a reality that we were to leave 
the place where we had experienced some of the darkest 
hours in our temporal life and—up to that date—the bright¬ 
est in our spiritual life. But we were not leaving without 
first having tried to force the “golden music” on the other 
side of the road, but all to no purpose. The gospel had gone 
and been received over the same hills and in the same valleys 
as I saw the golden music in my dream, and no farther. The 
music in the air for that place had already ceased to spread. 
The few that have been added to the Jefferson Branch since 
the first preaching of the gospel there have received the gos¬ 
pel near where the music sounded the loudest. 

In less than a month we were on our journey to Los Ange¬ 
les County, commonly called Gospel Swamp, in company with 
Brother J. G. Walker and family and R. R. Dana. We went 
in canvas-covered wagons, taking tents, bedding, and cooking 
utensils, to camp out by the way. There were three two- 


168 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


horse wagons and a single buggy, and Willie Walker and our 
son Frank on horseback. Being near the time for the rainy 
season to set in, all were anxious to make the journey as 
quickly as possible; therefore traveled later each day than 
we otherwise should have done. 

Perhaps the routine of camping out may not be familiar to 
all. A brief outline of one day will speak for the whole trip. 
When a commodious camping ground would be sighted— 
which California abounds in—the teams were reined off the 
road, and located as desired, and all alighted. We had three 
children. Sister Walker had four, and my brother George 
was in our company as far as Santa Maria. While the men 
were caring for the horses, we women would hunt our re¬ 
spective places for spreading our tents, and scrape the sticks 
and pebbles off with an iron rake brought for the purpose. 
Then when the men had unloaded the wagons they spread 
the tents, the boys gathered stuff for the fires and we women 
cooked the supper, and all ate with a relish, and no small 
quantity either. Then the dishes were washed in a stinted 
allowance of dishwater, and wiped with a damp towel, for 
there was no time to dry them. When this ordeal was com¬ 
pleted, and broken victuals replaced in the lunch-boxes, and 
dishes put by for the night, the beds were made in the tents. 
Notwithstanding the heat of the day, the nights were chilly, 
so a few more sticks were thrown on the fire and all gathered 
about it; or perhaps the children would first have a lively 
frolic about in the moonlight to exercise their cramped limbs. 
At an early hour, though, all were called together, and after 
singing the songs of Zion, all bowed in prayer and retired 
for the night; but not always to rest, for our beds were so 
hard, until the comfortable thought of putting the horses’ 
breakfast beneath our mattresses was suggested. 

Oh, how cold the mornings were, and how the beefsteak or 
bacon gravy stiffened out as soon as it touched the plates! 
The routine was about the same, only that of doing up instead 
of undoing, and all worked lively to get an early start. At 
noontimes no tents were spread. We usually found a friendly 
oak tree with broad-spreading branches, which afforded a 
shade from the sun. 

One afternoon before reaching Santa Maria, we camped 
earlier than usual, because of the inviting situation and a 
clear running brook close by. We drove off the road a little 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


169 


way, and in a short time two other camping teams came in on 
the same grounds, but halted nearer the road than we. See¬ 
ing two ladies in the company. Sister Walker and I tidied 
ourselves up a little, after getting the work done for the 
night, and went to call upon our neighbors. One of the 
ladies was a very chatty little body. They had come from 
San Jose, and she was describing the incidents of their trip 
with glowing interest. Among the rest she spoke of stopping 
at the Tres Pinos on purpose to inquire about the terrible 
tragedy enacted there. Here was where Mr. Leander Davi¬ 
son, Mr. Burton’s brother-in-law, was shot by the bandit 
Vasquez. She said, “The proprietor took me to the front 
door and showed me where the pistol ball had gone through, 
and like doubting Thomas, I thrust my finger in the place, 
saying, ‘And this is where the ball went through. And were 
you the man that was shot?’ 

“‘No,’ said the proprietor, demurely; ‘I was not here 
then.’ ” 

When she learned that the man who was shot was a relative 
of mine, and I was familiar with the circumstance, she in¬ 
sisted upon me rehearsing it to her. The circumstance was 
not so far in the past but what the rehearsal completely un¬ 
nerved me. In fact I had not felt any too brave all the way 
along. The Spaniards were still bad. Robberies and murders 
were being committed wherever money could be had. They 
secretly acquainted themselves with everybody’s circum¬ 
stances, and we had no reason to believe otherwise than that 
they knew we had sold, and received money, and might have 
it all with us. So as we returned to our camp fire, I was in¬ 
wardly trembling with a nervous fear. 

After singing a hymn we knelt as usual around the camp 
fire for prayer. Sister Walker’s position was so that she 
faced the other campers, also the little patch of road oppo¬ 
site. We had not been at prayer many moments when a 
Spaniard rode in at a moderate gait, looked at the other 
camp fire,—I believe the people had ^’^tired,—^then walked his 
horse across to our circle and disni^ :ited, holding the bridle 
in his hand. 

As we arose from our knees, I think all were somewhat 
startled to see that dark visage peering at us. Brother Dana, 
a stalwart man and in the prime of life, strode up to him 
and began to question him as to what he wanted, and where 


170 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


he was from. He replied first that he wanted to light his 
cigar at the camp fire, which did not seem quite satisfactory, 
since he had passed the other fire. And again, that he was 
going to Santa Maria for a doctor; his father was sick. He 
seemed to talk aimlessly, and was doing more looking than 
talking. I could not hear all that was said, but having a 
heavy purse about me, went into the tent, moved one of the 
vegetable boxes, dug away the sand, and planted the purse of 
money. We had sent the bulk of the money by express, yet 
we carried more than we wanted to lose. Our men were 
somewhat menacing in their manner. They gathered close 
about him, and if he backed a step or two they stepped nearer. 
Presently he rode off. His manner was suspicious, and the 
probabilities were, as we thought, that he was there to spy 
out our forces and would soon return with more. 

Brethren Dana and Walker got their “Henry rifles” in 
order for use, and went to bed with them right at their hand. 
As for ourselves we had no weapons. Mr. Burton was sleep¬ 
ing—vocally—in about two minutes after we got into bed. But 
I was too much alarmed to go to sleep. I waited and listened. 
The moon threw shadows of the trees, behind which it was 
rising, across the tent with something of a swaying motion 
that I mistook for that of people moving about outside. Of 
course I could not hear had anyone been there. I lifted up 
the side of the tent cloth and peered out-; all was quiet. Still 
I had brought Vasquez and his band so vividly to my mental 
view while talking about him, it seemed to me that they 
were still lurking about. 

I awakened Mr. Burton, and told him how frightened and 
nervous I was; that I could not pray even with my faith, and 
requested him to ask of the Lord some testimony that I 
might feel more composed and have more faith. 

Presently he said, “Have you been asleep yet, Emma?” 

“Since we were talking?” 

“Yes.” 

“Why of course not. It has not been more than two minutes 
since I ceased speaking.” 

“Is that all? I thought I had been asleep a long time. 
However, you need not have any more fears; a personage 
stood by me just now, and said: ‘Fear not; no harm shall 
come unto thee nor any that are with thee. I have sent thee 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


171 


forth. Be faithful, and you shall receive a crown when my 
Son visits the earth again.’ ” 

What a consolation these words were! And in considering 
the goodness of our Father thus to come to our aid, and of 
the words of promise, I forgot my fears, and soon we both 
were fast asleep, and slept till morning unmolested. 

As a sequel to this testimony I will add a portion of a 
letter received from Mr. Burton written three years after, 
from Brighton, near Sacramento, in which he gives a brief 
outline of a vision he received on a Sunday morning. He 
was walking in a field when the vision came upon him, and 
when it left him he found himself lying weak and helpless 
upon the ground. The letter bears the date of “Monday, 
May 27, 1878.” I have it before me. 

“I spoke yesterday morning and felt well. Before meet¬ 
ing I took a walk, and was blessed with instruction such as 
I never had before. I saw and heard that as iniquity was 
abounding in the land, the days were near when empires 
and kingdoms should fall, and governments be dissolved. And 
the artillery of warriors, pistols of communists, and daggers 
of assassins would deluge the earth with blood. The angel 
of the Lord would be sent forth with .instructions to smite 
the shores of the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, and they should 
break their bars. Fire from heaven should be sent upon the 
earth, sweeping with a terrific, roaring, rushing, crackling 
noise through the cities, towns, and over the earth. I saw 
one sent forth from a beautiful city—a servant. The Master 
gave him a palm in one hand, and on the other arm was 
written in bright, golden letters, ‘Bind up the law, and seal 
up the testimony.’ And as he went, I heard a shout that re¬ 
sounded through, and filled the vault of heaven, ‘Come home! 
Come home! Come out of her my children, for her destruc¬ 
tion is come.’ It was from one ‘mighty and strong.’ And as 
the servant went forth, he gave a small leaf from the palm 
to such as heard the message—for none of all the inhabitants 
of the earth heard it except the children. ... I saw him con¬ 
fronted by a crowd of apparently hundreds of men, angry, 
savage, and determined not to let him pass. But as he neared 
them they opened a way through the midst of them, and it 
was as though a great chain extended through the gap at 
each side, which restrained the angry men; and the servant 
went through as calm as a child, only shouting his message of 


172 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


binding up the law and sealing up the testimony. No power 
on earth could harm or hinder him. Fast followed in his 
steps the fearful destructions of the first part of the vision, 
and the earth was covered with plague, pestilence, war, flood, 
fire, and all evil ever spoken of. Still the servant on his 
errand traveled, until I saw that in his circuit he neared the 
beautiful city again. He was met by the Master. Oh, what a 
welcome! And by the side of the servant was a little form look¬ 
ing continually in the face of the servant, and exceedingly 
happy. I saw then that there were a great many other servants 
coming in, having finished their mission. They were to stay 
out until by giving each child outside the city a leaf from 
their palm, they had given all away, then they were to re¬ 
turn. And as the servant and this little form by his side 
returned, the Master looked so sweetly on them, and then 
placing a crown upon his brow, said, ‘My Father told you 
he would give you a crown if you would be faithful. He 
now fulfills his promise. Enter.’ I heard dimly, as afar off, 
music, oh, so sweet! I drew nearer and nearer. We looked 
to see it—you and I. The atmosphere opened, thousands upon 
thousands of angels accompanying the King, the Lord of 
glory. A voice by my side said, ‘Those who remain shall be 
changed in a twinkling of an eye.’ This is the end.” 

Having thus digressed, I will now return to pursue our 
journey south. 

The little branch at Santa Maria, the fruits of Mr. Burton’s 
first missionary tour, in company with R. R. Dana, hailed our 
company with joy. 

We proposed remaining over a few days to get fresh sup¬ 
plies of provisions cooked, also to have our sunbonnets, dish 
towels, and aprons washed up. This halt embraced a Sun¬ 
day, which was enjoyed by all. Here Brother Newton Best 
lived; he who had received us when we first came to Cali¬ 
fornia. Our interest in them urged Joseph to go from San 
Benito down there with the gospel story, which resulted in 
his baptizing ten persons before the branch was organized 
Many have united with it since. 

The next Sunday we spent in Pleasant Valley, Ventura 
County, near Brother Samuel Walker’s, and on the evening 
of the fourteenth day from home we drove into Gospel Swamp 
and camped in Brother Knight’s yard. It was then near the 
middle of November, 1875. 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


173 


We continued living in our tents for ten days after 
reaching the place of our destination; after which we all 
moved, by invitation, into the house on the place Brother 
Russell Huntley had purchased, and kept house for him, 
while our men folks hunted land and talked up meetings. 
Mr. Burton had been appointed president of Southern Cali¬ 
fornia District at the semiannual conference, held at Wash¬ 
ington Corners, just prior to our leaving San Benito, and 
was anxious, as well as other elders who were with us, to 
commence his work in the district. The Newport Branch 
then consisted of eleven members who formerly belonged to 
the San Bernardino Branch, over which Elder John Brush 
presided. Their meetings were held from house to house. 
Brother Brush was an aged man, and had suffered much 
persecution in his day, and was more fearful-than hopeful, 
when this force of elders came into the place, fairly bubbling 
over to preach, lest it would create a persecution. But he 
was finally won over, and enjoyed his big boys, who had come 
with sleeves rolled up ready to work. And in after days he 
often made the remark, “Old men for counsel, but young men 
for wary 

Brother and Sister Walker found a home for themselves 
before we did—a place with a house to live in. We remained 
in Brother Huntley’s house while ours was being built and an 
artesian well sunk, the work of which kept the men away 
from early morning till dark. And oh, how lonesome I was 
in that dismal place after Sister Walker moved away! At 
least it was dismal to me at that time; a perfect wilderness 
of corn. It grew so high there was nothing discernible above 
it but some trees and the tops of two houses. I did not 
know until the corn was cut that I had any near neighbors. 
It was an unfavorable time of the year for becoming ac¬ 
climated to such a change of temperature from the high, 
dry mountain air, to the dampness and prolonged fogs, which 
some days scarcely lifted at all, and the consequence to me 
was a species of asthma. It differed from any other asthma, 
in that others required cool air, where cool or cold air caused 
such a contraction of the air tubes as to shut my breath off 
almost entirely. Taking off warm clothes and getting into 
a cool bed was an ordeal that I dreaded, and the effect be¬ 
came worse each succeeding evening. I had been admin¬ 
istered to repeatedly, but without any permanent benefit. 


174 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


The evening of which I write was damp and cold. My hus¬ 
band was Tendering what assistance he could by holding 
wraps about me. But by the time I got into bed, sitting 
rather than lying, my breathing became so laborious as to 
be plainly heard in another room. I gasped the words by 
snatches, “Get the oil and administer! How I wish Brother 
Mills were here; I would soon get rid of this!” Under the 
hands of these elders, my husband and D. S. Mills, I had 
been relieved of suffering very many times, and always ex¬ 
pected relief. Immediately upon the expression of that wish 
relief came. Oh, how comfortable! When Mr. Burton re¬ 
turned to the room with the oil, I was just enough awake 
to say, “Pm all right; no need to administer.” In another 
minute I was fast asleep. I was healed so that it did not 
return again for years; not until I encountered the frosty 
air of Nova Scotia. 

In the early spring, Brother Mills came to southern Cali¬ 
fornia; and as it was our wont to relate our experience in the 
gospel life, we rehearsed to him the above incident, and were 
surprised to hear him make inquiries as to the exact time. I 
knew the hour of the evening was very near ten o^clock, and 
that it was early in January; and by going back from one 
landmark to another, we discovered the date. Whereupon 
he drew a little notebook from his pocket, and nodding his 
head while he spoke, said: “Yes; that was the time.” Then 
he had his part to tell, which was that he was with Brother 
Carmichael at the time, who was very sick, and had been for 
some time. He had persuaded the family to retire early and 
get a much-needed rest. He would sit with him alone 
till twelve o’clock. As he sat there watching the sick man, 
all being quiet within doors, but without, the rain pouring 
down in torrents and the night densely dark, he was vividly 
impressed, as though some one had spoken the words, to make 
supplication for Sisters Lawn and Burton, who were in dis¬ 
tress and desired his prayers. He immediately retired to the 
far side of the room from the partially unconscious sick 
man and offered fervent prayer in our behalf. In due time 
he had learned that Sister Lawn was at that time considered 
very dangerously sick, and in such distress that one of her 
sons was about to brave the storm and darkness and the 
danger of the swollen river to go to San Benito for Brother 
Mills. He had gone out to saddle the horses, intending to 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


175 


lead one for Brother Mills to ride back. But while they were 
making ready, Sister Lawn became so much better, they sent 
word out that it was not necessary to go. Thus both were 
healed in like manner, distance being no barrier to the power 
of God. Praise be to his name for his goodness! 

Our money lasted till we got a place,—thirty-six acres,— 
built quite a large house, and sunk an artesian well. After 
purchasing some provisions our money was all gone, and no 
income. We were strangers in the place, had no store bill, 
nor did we propose to make any; consequently we were soon 
embarrassed in many ways for want of money, which led to 
an experience that brought faith into exercise—one of the 
Lord^s stepping-stones which he often places in his children’s 
path as a means of bringing them nearer to him, if they will 
be exercised thereby. 

The first serious difficulty we encountered was the want of 
a pair of shoes for our boy Frank. He was at work plowing 
our place, and his old shoes were so broken out that he 
kicked them off entirely and had gone one day barefoot. But 
the ground was damp, cold, and salt, and was making his 
feet chapped and sore; besides, the land seemed to be under¬ 
lined with isnakes. He had plowed up several, one a rattle¬ 
snake, that he came very near stepping on. 

Mr. Burton’s work as president of the district and other 
callings took him from home a great deal of the time, so that 
he did not realize the home needs as I did. When he came 
home that evening—of the day that Frank had plowed in 
his sore feet—we talked over the matter, and he remembered 
that one of our distant neighbors wished to buy our tent; had 
said he would give the money for it any time we wished to 
sell, which to us was very satisfactory just then. Next morn¬ 
ing he put the tent in the wagon and started off to find his 
buyer. 

Right here I must take up another thread of this story. 
Brother Mills had succeeded in getting a place, (for the time 
being) adjoining ours, the line running vei-y near our house. 
The day Mr. Burton started away with the tent in the wagon, 
Brother Mills, with several of the brethren, was busily at 
work plowing it—ready to plant corn before he went north 
again. Mr. Burton returned much sooner than I expected. 
Seeing no tent in the wagon I concluded, of course, that he 
had sold it, and I was all smiles when I met him at the door. 


176 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


Seeing his face was so radiant, I thought there must be 
something good in store. I greeted him with the words, 
“Well, I see you have sold the tent. Did you get the money 
for it?” 

“No,” he replied, “I did not sell it; did not see the man at 
all,” still smiling. 

“Where is it?” I asked, my heart beginning to sink with 
the suspicion that he had either loaned or given it away. 

“I hope you will not feel badly about it, Emma; T let 
Brother Coons have it,” and he then explained that he had 
not gone very far when he met Brother Coons,—an aged man 
who had no home or relatives in California,—who hailed him, 
saying he was then on his way to our house to see if he 
could get our tent to live in; that he wanted to take care of 
Brother Mills’s place while he (Brother Mills) was gone. And 
if he could just have that tent to put on the place, he would 
be all right. “And,” continued he, “what else could I do 
but say ‘yes’? I told him that I had it in the wagon then, 
and if he would tell me where he wished it to be set, I would 
put it up for him.” 

Before he had ceased speaking the tears were chasing each 
other down my face. I do not know that I could blame him. 
It would have seemed hard-hearted to have refused; but the 
tent was our only resource. Our boy was at work on that 
raw, windy day in his bare feet, and I could not help feel¬ 
ing very badly. But the outward manifestation of such 
feelings had to be speedily put aside, for I had several men 
to get dinner for, and must have it on time. I was cooking 
for the men that were boring Mr. Mills’s well. 

After dinner was over, and all had gone out to work 
again, my blue feelings came back worse than before. The 
little girls were at school, and the house was perfectly quiet, 
while with a heavy heart I took my sewing and sat down to 
work. It seemed to me that the iron grip of poverty that 
had pressed us so hard a few years before was again ready 
to fasiten its hand upon us, and I dreaded the struggle. 
Presently the thought came to me: “What church do I belong 
to? Do we not profess to serve a God who answers prayer? 
and has he not promised to be a helper in time of need? Is 
it not my privilege to put in practice what is taught? I 
will go at once!” 

And laying aside my work, I arose and went to my room. 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


177 


and there in a brief yet earnest prayer made my request. 
Some of the words were these: “Father, open up the way 
whereby I may obtain five dollars, for thou knowest my need 
even now.” 

I confess the word “dollars” sounded odd in a prayer. But 
I said within myself as I left the room, “It is dollars I want, 
so I suppose it is right to say dollars.” And as I resumed my 
work I wondered what would be the way in which the prayer 
would be answered. We needed a few small stores, and I 
had concluded that five dollars would cover the whole. The 
load of care and trouble or worry that had been pressing 
upon me for a week left me so entirely that my thoughts be¬ 
came occupied in another subject, and I soon forgot the 
whole circumstance, and sat busily thinking and working for 
about an hour, during which time another scene was being 
enacted not far from where I was. A messenger, seemingly, 
had been sent from heaven to attend to the request presented 
to the Father, who came to the servant of God, no other 
than Brother D. S. Mills, and from whom I learned his part 
of the testimony.' 

He was plowing the portion of his land that was nearest 
the line towards ours. As he passed near the house he felt 
suddenly impressed to go in and give me a five-dollar bill 
that he had in his pocket. He wondered why he should have 
thought of doing that, for he did not know that we were in 
need of anything special; did not even know that our money 
was gone, and so concluded that his thought arose from his 
fear of being burdensome to us. Settling the matter thus in 
his mind, he kept on plowing until he had made his round, 
and was passing the spot where he first felt the impression. 
It came again upon him stronger than before—Go give her 
five dollars; she needs it. He knew then from whence the 
admonition came, and halted. He kicked away the sods, re¬ 
adjusted his hat on his head, while he tried to make up his 
mind to come in. He said within himself: “I would go and 
give her the money if I was not stopping there. But I know 
it will hurt her feelings; she will think I do not feel welcome, 
and wish to pay my way.” So he started up the team and 


H wrote this testimony at the time, but never made it 
public. I now have it before me to copy from. 


178 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


plowed another round. But as he neared the spot again— 
where no doubt the unseen angel stood—he was admonished 
a third time in a way that he knew he had better heed the 
admonition; and so he forthwith left his work and came into 
the house. 

This period of time had occupied the hour that I sait sew¬ 
ing. I noticed a perplexed look on the brother's face as he 
came in and walked aimlessly to the window and then to 
the fireplace; and resting his head on his hand, he gazed 
for a moment down at the hearth. Since he had not once 
looked straight at me, I did not feel at liberty to question him; 
yet I wondered what was wrong. Suddenly he wheeled 
around and came to where I was sitting, drew from his 
breastpocket a five-dollar bill, and dropped it into my hand, 
saying: 

“Here, take this; you need it.” 

I as quickly picked it up and handed it back, saying, “No, 
Brother Mills, I will do nothing of the kind,” assuring him 
that I did not need it; for in the embarrassment of the mo¬ 
ment, together with my eagerness to have him take it back, 
I had forgotten both my need and my request in prayer, and 
urged the probable need of his family at home. 

“No,” said he, “my family is provided for at present, and I 
have this besides,” holding up another “greenback” of the 
same value. “You rrmst keep it!” 

Both the tone and manner were unusually stern and for¬ 
bidding of further parley. I should have to be offensively 
contrary to remonstrate further, and was obliged to hold my 
peace and keep the money, while he walked out as quickly as 
he came in, leaving me hurt, vexed, and perplexed, without 
knowing why, only that I thought he needed the money him¬ 
self; and again, that he was afraid of being an expense, be¬ 
cause we were assisting him a little in getting his well bored; 
and that led to the thought that he perhaps did not feel 
welcome—he to whom we owed so much for bringing the 
gospel to us, or sending his colaborer, and coming himself to 
the rescue just in the right time, and had benefited us so 
much by his counsel, his faith, and his prayers. And now to 
take money from him seemed like robbery. 

While I thus sat holding the unwelcome bit of green paper, 
and my mind in a perfect tumult, Frank came in, and see¬ 
ing the money, said: “Oh, ma! where did you get that?” 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


179 


I answered dryly that Brother Mills had just given it to 
me. 

“How good he is!” said Frank. “Now you can get my 
boots.” 

The mention of the boots brought a reaction. Here was the 
specific sum sent in answer to prayer; and in what manner 
of spirit was I receiving it? My resentful feelings gave place 
to humble penitence. Why had I so entirely forgotten that 
I had asked for it? Why had I not remembered, and re¬ 
ceived it with joyful gratitude and praise to God? Again I 
knelt and thanked the Father for his goodness, confessing 
my sins. 

In the evening, after the little ones had gone to bed, and the 
house was quiet, the fire in the cozy fireplace throwing out a 
ruddy glow, Mr. Burton turned to Brother Mills and said: 
“If you have no objections, I would like to know how you 
came to give that money to Emma to-day; what influenced 
you to do so?” for I had acquainted Mr. Burton with the 
whole circumstance. 

Then Brother Mills rehearsed what I have already written. 
The tears stood in his eyes when we gave him the experience 
of the day, and thanked him heartily for the generous part 
he had performed in it; hoping he might never feel the loss 
of the money thus given, and that God would send help to 
him in every time of need. 

Does the great eternal Father look down from heaven, his 
dwelling place, and take cognizance of all the little events 
of his children here below? If he does, does he wish his chil¬ 
dren to know it? How can they know unless he gives them 
the evidence and how shall we know that he gives us evidence 
unless we ask, and recognize him in the minute details of 
life? When I came to realize the fatherhood of God in an 
everyday life sense, it brought me more closely to him than 
when I regarded him with awe as the God of heaven, the 
all-powerful Creator of all things. Gratitude begat love; 
and the love cast out the reserve of fear. And I often 
whispered requests while about my work—as to a loving 
Father who was ever near, that I perhaps may have 
thought too small or trivial to make a formal prayer con¬ 
cerning; and thus proved to myself by receiving the things, 
or the help desired, that the parental ear was ever open to 
the smallest desires if sought in faith and love. Those little 


180 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOONI 


things have often, in fact always strengthened my faith, and 
increased my gratitude far more than -what would be called 
a greater testimony. I do not wish the reader to understand 
that I made these requests carelessly, or until I had done 
my part towards obtaining and failed. Yet a few years be¬ 
fore I could scarcely have believed the Lord would notice 
or lend his aid in all these matters of everyday life. 


CHAPTER 9 


I T seems necessary in this life sketch that I should speak 
somewhat of the gospel work in the Newport Branch, 
since our interest and experience for a season became so 
blended with it; but shall not attempt to give instances ac¬ 
cording to their date or routine. 

Immediately following our locating in that southern vi¬ 
cinity, Saints from the surrounding country commenced to 
gather in by families, seeking a home, most of whom were 
young Saints, that is, young in the work, and filled with zeal 
and the spirit of the gospel. Both preaching and prayer 
meetings were held regularly during each week, and also on 
Sundays, with steadily increasing interest. At first the 
meetings were held from house to house, ours being the 
most frequent resort, because the most commodious, and cen¬ 
tral in location. Numbers were now being steadily added 
to the branch, both by letter and by baptism; consequently 
the congregation soon outgrew the seating capacity of dwell¬ 
ing houses. Then a bowery was erected to do service until 
a church could be built. 

The California semiannual conference of September, 1876, 
was to be held at that place, and Brother Joseph Smith was 
booked to be in attendance. Perhaps the enemies of our 
faith thought we ought to honor his coming by having a 
brand new bowery. Be that as it may, on Friday evening, 
about one hour after Brother Joseph’s arrival at our house, 
we looked out of the window and saw the improvised taber¬ 
nacle in flames. All were sorry to lose one whole day’s meet¬ 
ings; but apart from that it made very little difference. The 
brethren turned to with a will, and built another in time for 
the next evening meeting. The Saints hailed Brother 
Joseph’s coming with joy and those not of our faith with 
curiosity. They wished to see a prophet, thinking he must 
necessarily look different from ordinary men, consequently 
there was a large and interested congregation for the Sun¬ 
day services. During the day Brother Joseph baptized some 
four of five persons, our youngest daughter Addie, who upon 
that day had arrived at the age of eight years, claiming the 
right to be one of that number. 

Brother J. C. Clapp had been with us holding meetings, 
both prior to Brother Joseph’s coming and afterwards. He 


182 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


had collided with the Reverend Doctor Hand of the Disciple 
faith, who at that time was giving the people of the “Mesa” 
his views of Mormonism. And when he refused to meet 
Birother Clapp publicly, the latter appointed a short series 
of review meetings to be held in the bowery, whereupon a 
cordial invitation was extended to all, both far and near, to 
attend the meetings. This was to be our first experience in 
hearing the faith compared and defended in that particular 
way, and all were very enthusiastic in regard to it. 

But however deeply interested one may be in spiritual 
things, and however little the temporal things are valued in 
comparison, the temporal things will clamor for their share 
of consideration, and so it was at this time. I knew that more 
meetings meant more visitors to entertain, and kept turning 
the thought in my mind, “What shall I set before them!” 
Our larder was empty, and there was no bishop’s allowance 
in those days. Mr. Burton gave the bulk of his time to the 
work of the ministry, therefore there was little coming in 
except Frank’s wages for short jobs of work here and there 
as opportunity offered when out of school, and the small 
yield of com from our place. 

The Saints were kind, and often sent in such eatables as 
were appreciated, especially at times of meetings, but there 
was nothing regular, and was often put to my wits’ ends, 
so to speak, to get up a presentable meal, for visitors. But 
in this instance the time for meeting to commence drew 
very near, and nothing came in. I knew whose storehouse 
was never empty, and now that we had done all we could, 
and dealt freely with what we had, I felt justified in ask¬ 
ing for more. This I did, reminding the Father of how we 
had given our all to feed the Saints from a distance, and of 
our coming need, expecting strangers also to be with us, and 
said, “Send us this day money or money’s worth in such 
things as we need.” 

During the day a sack of flour and several parcels of the 
most needed groceries were sent in by different persons; 
also some money—as Brother Clapp said'—“To get butter 
with.” Although not a very ample supply, I felt that I 
could manage very well, and was thankful. But when the 
Saints came from a distance who desired to abide with us, 
they brought such generous boxes of provisions that we all 
fared sumptuously, and a good supply was left when the 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


183 


meetings were over. This is but one instance of many, dur¬ 
ing that period, when the supply was made equal to the de¬ 
mand. And it has also been our experience while extend¬ 
ing hospitality .to the many, that the supplies that we have 
had have been made to last more than double their usual 
time, and still be fed from, daily. These last few lines 
being on general terms, I will follow the thought still further 
and say, I believe those above-mentioned circumstances were 
in direct fulfillment of the promises given upon certain con¬ 
ditions, and this is how the conditions came about. 

It became necessary upon several occasions for us to make 
choice between seeking first to establish the kingdom of 
heaven and its righteousness, and trust to the promise that 
the necessary things of this life would “be added,” or to 
embrace the opportunity—offered—to add them, at the ex¬ 
pense of leaving the things of the kingdom till a more con¬ 
venient season. In that it so happened—if things do happen 
—that when Mr. Burton would be at home awhile fixing up 
the place, and an opportunity for getting a week or two of 
goods wages offered, it would be immediately followed by a 
call from some part of the district, which seemed necessary 
to attend to. Both seemed necessary. It was not always 
easy in such circumstances to know which was the path of 
duty, more especially in consideration of our duty toward 
our children. From a human standpoint the decision would 
be. Provide for your family. But the Master had said to 
the ministry long years ago: “But seek ye first to build up 
the kingdom of God, and to establish his righteousness, and 
all these things [the necessaries of life] shall be added.” 
(Inspired Translation.) And in these last times, “This is a 
day of sacrifice and. of warning.” In view of these injunc¬ 
tions, and believing the Lord took the children into consider¬ 
ation also, we always came to the same conclusion, that it 
was our duty to make the sacrifice, take the Lord at his 
word, and trust him with the thought that these perishable 
things that are so convenient in this life will soon pass away, 
and if through the warning a soul was saved, it would far 
outweigh our little sacrifice so willingly shared by the chil¬ 
dren. And I still trust that wherein our children have been 
deprived of much that would be of benefit to them in this 
life, for the gospel’s sake, they will receive, if not a compen- 


184 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


sation in this life, a just reward in the life to come. Surely 
the Judge of all the earth will do right.” 

But to return to my subject. A house of worship was 
soon built, paid for, and dedicated to the Lord, and God 
manifested his pleasure in it. There seemed to be a hallowed 
influence within the walls that was felt by those who entered. 
The Spirit of God was poured out upon that people in a 
degree that perhaps few small branches of the church have 
realized. There was no lack of preachers. Elders Mills, 
Huntley, Burton, Walker, and Dana were residents in the 
neighborhood. Others hearing of the work of the Lord in 
that branch came from various parts of the country to see, 
hear, enjoy, and impart. The church was crowded to over¬ 
flowing every Sunday, many standing at or sitting beneath 
the open windows, the congregation being interspersed with 
strangers from as far as five miles distant. Jews also at¬ 
tended at times. The prayer meetings were looked forward 
to by the Saints as feasts for the soul. Love filled the heart 
of each, and all were as one. 

A neighbor made this remark: 

‘T do not understand your people. There is no revival go¬ 
ing on, but as regularly as the Sunday comes, a crowd goes 
over to the reservoir for baptism.” 

Yes; for months scarcely a Sunday passed without there 
being a baptism. And upon two occasions, once by Elder 
Mills and again by Elder Burton, fifteen were buried in the 
liquid grave before the elder left the water. 

Among the many bright pictures of those days that are 
still vivid in memory, is that of an evening service. Elder 
Burton occupied the stand. I can see again the crowded 
house, and the rapt attention given to the speaker while by the 
power of the Spirit he presented the glorious gospel of 
Christ in its beauty—its grandeur! Divine inspiration lit 
up the subject and the countenance of the speaker like a halo 
of light, as if the “gates of heaven were ajar,” and its glory 
being showered down upon us. Strangers listened with 
bated breath; a thrill ran through the audience. Lo! the dis¬ 
course had flown from them. The words were not according 
to their understanding. Never in my experience have I lis¬ 
tened to one speaking in an unknown tongue and realized 
to the same extent that it was tasting of “the powers of the 
v/orld to come,” as upon that occasion. Awe was depicted on 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


185 


the countenances of those not of our faith, who having at¬ 
tended services only, had never before witnessed the mani¬ 
festations of the gifts of the gospel. And when meeting 
was dismissed, they with the Saints seemed inclined to lin¬ 
ger, as if they would fain prolong the spell. 

Some few months after the above instance our district con¬ 
ference convened, at which time I was again suffering from 
daily attacks of neuralgia from decayed teeth and inflamed 
gums, and had been for a length of time. The meetinghouse 
was quite near us, and not wishing to miss the Sunday morn¬ 
ing service, I went. But the pain became so severe I was 
compelled to withdraw. But being in too much distress to 
even walk the little way home, entered the nearest house 
and remained till meeting was dismissed, then stepped to the 
door to ask some of the elders to come to the house and ad¬ 
minister to me. Brother Samuel Crane, an elder and all 
aglow with the rekindled fire of the gospel, was the only 
person outside the door. I accosted him with, 

“Are you coming to take dinner with us. Brother Crane?” 

“No,” he replied, “we are going back to Brother Forest’s.” 

“Well; stop in, please, on your way over. I wish to be ad¬ 
ministered to; am nearly crazy with my teeth.” 

He fixed his gaze upon me—as is said of those of old— 
and said, “Your teeth will stop aching without being ad¬ 
ministered to.” 

As he said the word stop every particle of pain gave 
way. 

“Well!” I exclaimed in astonishment, “they have every 
one stopped aching.” (Five were diseased.) Before I real¬ 
ized the wonderful power of God being made manifest, I gave 
expression to a fear that the blessing was not permanent, to 
which Brother Crane replied, with a tinge of severity in his 
tone: 

“Your faith is sufficient if you will exercise it!” 

He manifested his belief in what he had said by driving 
straight past the house without ever looking towards it. 
How is one to exercise faith in obedience to precept, since 
faith does not come at one’s bidding? 

It did not seem to me then, nor does it yet, that to inwardly 
affirm that the Lrord would continue the blessing, or that I 
knew he would, when I did not know it, would be any 
exercise of faith. The pain did not return as before, but 


186 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


during the afternoon, and the early part of the sacrament 
meeting, I did not feel really comfortable, a punishment, doubt¬ 
less, for my unbelief. During the singing my thoughts lin¬ 
gered with unusual clearness upon the sacred emblems, re¬ 
calling the words of our Lord, that the bread was his body 
and the wine was his blood. And since there was healing 
virtue in even the hem of his garment, how much more 
should there be in his ‘‘body” and “blood.” Would it not 
heal those who partook in faith and expectation? I felt that 
it would. Had not the Apostle Paul said many were sick 
and many slept because of not observing those things? Why 
was it that we as Saints did not realize to a greater extent 
the ample provisions made in the plan of salvation wrought 
out by Jesus Christ for all that his creatures hath need to be 
saved from? Such was the frame of mind in which I partook, 
after which I had no more neuralgia or toothache. And the 
blessing is still in force. 

Brother Crane’s words were brought to pass. They stopped 
“aching without being administered to.” Yet not until this 
writing did I comprehend the manner in which the necessary 
faith was exercised. 

Shortly after the above-named conference, if my memory 
serves me correctly, Mr. Burton and Brother R. R. Dana 
started for a preaching tour up through the country as far 
north as Santa Maria. They had been gone about a week 
when a complication of seriously trying circumstances over¬ 
took us at home. It was on Tuesday morning. The children 
started for school, but had not been gone very long when 
Addie came back and made known, between sobs and tears, 
that Dora had been run over by the big roller. She had been 
carried into Brother Damron’s and they had sent for me. 

“Is she dead?” I asked, feeling the strength oozing from 
my body, for that roller was eight or ten feet in length, of 
solid sycamore, ribbed all over with two inch scantling, and 
in weight about eleven hundred pounds. It was used to 
pulverize the hard adobe land. 

“No,” said Addie, “not when I left.” 

As I hurried to her, I tried to prepare myself to see a 
crushed and mangled body, perhaps already lifeless. But 
the monitor that speaks to the intelligence bade me be of 
good cheer; she was not so badly hurt as I was picturing. 
Still I found the dear child in much distress. Her whole 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


187 


body was swollen, particularly her head and ears. The thick, 
fleshy part of one hand, just below the thumb was black 
and looked as if the flesh were mashed to a jelly beneath the 
skin; so also on one arm from the elbow upwards, but the 
skin was not broken anywhere. The accident happened in 
this way. A man had the roller attached by the tongue to 
the back of a farm wagon—in which he rode—^transferring 
it to another part of the neighborhood. Several school chil¬ 
dren were on their way to school. While he stopped to 
speak to some men, the children climbed upon the tongue of 
the roller for a ride. Dora and one of her classmates, Millie 
Perdue, sat on the tongue, it being broad and heavy. When 
the team started again, Millie swayed as if she were about 
to fall. Dora promptly grasped her and assisted her to her 
place again, but in so doing lost her own balance and fell 
lengthwise of the road, and in a slightly twisted position, so 
that the roller passed over her feet first and clear on over 
her head. The girls said she looked to be flattened to the 
road when the roller left her. She was unable to make any 
noise, therefore the driver was not aware of the accident 
until he had driven over her. 

Brother Brush was one of the number of men close by, 
where a well was being bored. He ran to the spot thinking 
she was dead, since no sound escaped her until he had taken 
her up in his arms, when she opened her eyes and said, “0, 
Father Brush, administer to me!” He stood there in the 
road in the midst of the gathering crowd with the child in 
his arms, and with bared head and upturned face entreated 
the Lord in her behalf. Then he carried her to the nearest 
house, where she was laid upon a bed, where I found her. 
Other elders had gathered in, and again she was administered 
to. At first she did not suffer any acute pains if perfectly 
still. She could not move except her hands, arms, and 
head; neither could she be moved without suffering great 
distress. Our first thought was to get her home. 

I shall never lose sight of the kind and ready assistance 
rendered by our neighbor, Mr. Moesser. When in considera¬ 
tion of her suffering several urged me to let her remain 
where she was, he came to me and said, “I think you are 
right, Mrs. Burton, in you^ desire to have her at home, and 
I will assist you.” He soon returned with a light wagon, both 
seats removed and plenty of straw in the bed of the wagon. 


188 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


Four men took her bed by the four corners and lifted her, 
bed and all, into the wagon, and by leading the horse slowly, 
she was transferred without any discomfort. The most diffi¬ 
cult task was in getting her clothes off and robed in her 
nightdress, and moved from the bed she was on to another. 
When about completed, the word was passed from one to 
another, “The doctor is coming.” I turned to Mr. Moesser, 
who stood near, and asked, “Who sent for a doctor?” For, 
to tell the truth, the thought of sending for a doctor had 
never entered my mind. Mr. Moesser replied that the man 
who drove the roller over her sent at once for the best surgi¬ 
cal doctor in town, with a request to bring with him his 
surgical instruments, not knowing what might be needed; 
and, added he, it shall not cost you anything, he will pay the 
bill. 

“I was not thinking about the bill,” I replied. “It is be¬ 
cause I have no idea of employing a doctor. Our faith is in 
a higher Physician. You know what we believe and preach, 
and if we can not practice what we preach, what better is 
our religion than that of others?” 

“But,” said he, “suppose some bones are broken, what 
then?” 

“Well, suppose they are?” Do you not think he who organ¬ 
ized the human frame is able to readjust them? I have seen 
broken bones united by the power of God. I say these things 
to you because you have known this power.” 

While we were thus talking the doctor came in, placed his 
“grip” on the table which stood near the open door of the 
bedroom, and went at once to the bedside, where “Sister 
Libbie” and others were standing. “The situation is,” I 
continued, “very embarrassing to all parties. I trust you 
will speak to the doctor at once, in my stead, in explanation 
and apology.” 

“You had better let him go on with the examination,” said 
Mr. Moesser. “It will be a satisfaction to know what the 
injuries are.” 

“Yes,” I replied, “you may permit him to do that, provid¬ 
ing it does not distress her too much.” 

At this juncture Dora gave a cry of pain, at which I 
hastened to her, leaving Mr. Moesser to the unpleasant task 
of dismissing the doctor. Upon his inquiry the doctor said 
he had examined her to his entire satisfaction, that there 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


189 


were no bones broken; but both hips were badly sprained 
and would cause her to be on her back just as long as if 
her limbs were broken. His astonishment could be better 
imagined than described when Mr. Moesser tapped him on 
the shoulder, while hurriedly setting out vials, and in an 
undertone acquainted him with the situation. On his return 
to Santa Ana he was met by a group of men, some of the 
brethren with them, anxious to learn of the extent of the 
injury and the condition of the sufferer. To them he made 
the statement as at the house, that both hips were badly 
sprained, and speaking of medical aid being refused, added, 
*‘I wish them a good time of it! It will be three months 
at least before she can be on her feet again, and that in the 
heat of the season.” 

Quite a number of Saints and friends had gathered to the 
house; none knew that the doctor had been dismis^d until 
he had gone. The verdict was that I had acted very unwisely, 
and some not of our faith thought almost criminally so. I 
was both surprised and disappointed, for I verily expected 
the full concurrence of all the Saints in the course I had 
adopted. Perhaps few indeed of those very individuals would 
have employed medical aid in ordinary sickness, but in 
this case I stood alone. In a short time after the doc¬ 
tor left, Dora became more sensible of her bruises and 
soreness. Her whole body, hands, arms, and all became set, 
rigid, she could only incline her head slightly from one side 
to the other as she lay on her back moaning in her distress. 

It was a trying moment to see her thus, and bear the re¬ 
proachful look and tone of one who was not of the faith, and 
the ominous head-shakings of many others. It seemed as if 
I was being put to a test of faith similar to that of Abraham. 
Would I trust God implicitly, and hold fast to my integrity 
in the ordinances of the church with my child’s life in the 
balance? For a moment the question confronted me. Have I 
done right or wrong? My courage well-nigh gave way. In 
my distress of mind I fled to the secret chamber to plead the 
sustaining evidence from God if I had done right. I plead 
the promise that none should be confounded who put their 
trust in the Lord. I had trusted him implicitly, and now if 
I had done right, and it should be well with the child, I 
prayed that when I returned to her bedside, she might be 


190 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


visibly better, so much so that she would have the free use 
of her arms again, and her head also. 

As I returned to her room Sister Libbie greeted me with 
the cheering words, “She seems so much better than a few 
minutes ago, and can use her arms now.” I thanked God, 
and truly took courage; and indeed it took courage to resist 
the tide of remedies that set in immediately as numerous as 
the people of the neighborhood, each differing from the other, 
and each in turn believed his to be better than his neighbor’s 
and all given in kindness. But two only were regarded with 
any degree of favor. Whisky, I believed to be for the wash¬ 
ing of the body; that and the vinegar were permitted to re¬ 
main. 

During the first day or two soft cloths were wrung from 
the hot liquid and laid over her body. Since she could not 
endure the lightest touch of a hand, I anointed her body 
mornings and evening by means of a piece of soft cotton 
saturated in the oil, drawn carefully over her. The elders 
came in frequently and had prayer over her. And when one 
place in the bed became heated, and the motionless position 
unbearable, she was carefully lifted in a sheet to the other 
side of the bed. It seemed that the powers of darkness were 
waged against us. Immediately my eyes became so sore it 
was difficult and painful to use them in the day; and when 
night came I could not open them at all where the lamp was. 
And Frank, our mainstay, took neuralgia in one of his feet 
so that he could not put it to the floor. Poor boy, how hard 
he tried not to let on that there was anything the matter 
with him. He seemed to think it was a reproach to him to 
be disabled at a time when he was so much needed. 

A card had been mailed to Mr. Burton at once, informing 
him of the accident, but I did not say for him to come home. 
It did not reach him, however, until the afternoon of Friday. 
He made ready to start for home the next morning. Early 
dawn found him astir, but when he went out to feed his 
horses, one of them was too sick to stand up. There were 
no railroads through that part of the country, so he was 
obliged to endure his restless anxiety as best he could till 
his team was able to make the journey home—a five days’ 
drive. Meanwhile we kept him informed daily of how mat¬ 
ters were progressing at home. 

The Saints and neighbors readily came to our assistance. 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


191 


Sister Libbie—Mrs. Davison—^being with us, and an excellent 
nurse, took her station at Dora’s bedside, and gave her every 
care and attention that was in her power to do; though she 
did not agree with all of my “notions,” as she called them, 
especially in the efficacy of olive oil, until about the third 
day, when preparing to make use of the hot applications, 
asked Dora which made her feel the more comfortable, the 
whisky or the vinegar. 

“The oil,” said Dora. “I would rather have mother come 
and bathe me with the oil.” 

Whereupon Sister Libbie came to me with a twinkle in 
her eye, saying, “That child seems to think your putting that 
oil on makes her feel easier than anything else, and if she 
thinks so, I suppose it must be so.” 

After which there was nothing but the consecrated oil used, 
and she improved rapidly. It was as Sister Libbie said, “We 
could fairly see her get well.” Every hour made an improve¬ 
ment. Besides the sprained hips, she had also sustained an 
internal injury. 

On Sunday she claimed that she was about well down to 
her hips, but as yet had no use of her lower limbs, and they 
had to be handled with the utmost care. 

During the following week she was able to leave her bed. 
When able to stand alone she could neither lift her feet nor 
move them ahead. At first I would move them ahead for 
her, and bend the knee joints a little, till they returned to 
their natural action. 

On Tuesday, just two weeks from the day she was hurt, 
she was with me at Santa Ana, the nearest mercantile town. 
As we came out from the post office we met the doctor going 
in. In a moment or two he came back to us, saying: 

“I believe this is Mrs. Burton? I did not recognize you at 

first. How is your little dau-” The word died on his lips 

when he saw her. With wide open eyes he added, “It is 
not possible that this is she!” 

“Yes; this is the one,” I replied; “she is doing pretty 
well, is she not?” 

“/ should think she wasT said he, in measured tones; and 
then turned on his heel and quickly went back into the post 
office. 

I wondered within myself what he would say to the public. 
I scarcely expected he would recognize the power of God 



192 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


in her restoration; nor did I think he would endanger his 
reputation as an intelligent physician by saying she was not 
so badly hurt as he had thought. But it proved to be true 
that the latter born of the dilemma was the one he chose. 

Some took the trouble to drive from Santa Ana down to 
the place where the accident occurred and examine the road 
to satisfy themselves. But there was no hole or rut found; 
the piece of road was hard, smooth, and level. And so the 
mystery still remained, not only about her speedy recovery, 
but “\^at prevented her from being crushed to a jelly.” 
It could not be denied that she fell in front of the roller— 
near the center—and that she was picked up behind the 
roller with her head towards it; For my own part I believe 
in accordance with what is found in the twelfth verse of the 
ninety-first Psalm—^that the angels bore the roller up in 
their hands so that its full weight did not rest upon her. 

When we questioned Dora as to her knowledge and feel¬ 
ings at the time, her answer was, ‘T reached out to catch 
Millie Perdue, then I knew I was falling, and the next thing 
I knew was feeling so stified that I could not make any 
noise. I saw the great, big roller almost up to my head, and 
knew it was going over me, and expected I must die. That 
was all I knew till Brother Brush had me in his arms.” 

Lest there should be any misgivings about her safe re¬ 
covery, I will inform the reader that she still lives, and is 
the happy mother of five bright, attractive children; and is 
also an unusually spry, hard-working little woman. 


CHAPTER 10 


I T would scarcely be doing justice to my reader, should 
there be one who is struggling with the trial of giving up 
her husband to the work of the ministry, to be silent in 
regard to my experience in that respect, and thereby imply 
that it was no trial to me. For indeed it was all that I could 
bear. It was not until we moved south that I realized my 
loss, comprehended that my husband was no more all our 
own. Although loving home and family just as dearly as 
ever, his whole heart and soul, outside of the love of home, 
were in the latter-day work. The latter-day work can not 
be carried on without the interest of the people. One can 
not gain the interest of the people without being interested 
in them; not only to preach, but to visit with, talk, advise, 
instruct, admonish, and sympathize with; in short, to live 
their lives while with them. The whole is best expressed in a 
pathetic remark I heard from an elder’s wife in the early 
days of this branch of my experience. We were looking at 
her husband’s photograph (I will call his name Grant), when 
she said in a low tone, as if more to herself than to the com¬ 
pany, “He was my Grant then, but now he is the people’s 
Grant.” 

To me those words contained a world of meaning; for I 
was then beginning to realize the same in reference to “my 
Burton,” and that the people’s gain was my loss. I was 
willing to give him up to preach the gospel; but this be¬ 
longing to the public was harder to become reconciled to. 
Again to hear the coarser quality of humanity familiarly call 
him “Brother,” as though he were one in common with their 
own family, was galling to my pride. Mr. Burton had always 
been cordial and social in his manner, but prior to the change 
of calling, which made it essential to become all things to all 
men in order to gain some, there was always that boundary 
line of respectful reserve which none but our circle of inti¬ 
mate friends took the liberty to overstep. This reserve was 
doubtless born of his position in life. He was both “mate” 
and “captain” at an early age. As such, one can be kind 
and considerate to his men, still there is always a certain 
distance between them. 

I had not made Mr. Burton’s acquaintance prior to the 
time of his occupying the first-named position, and he was 


194 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


captain within the year, so this familiarity of a general level 
was new to me. The truth is, I was selfish in my possession, 
and did not want everybody to claim and act upon the rela¬ 
tionship of brother. When in the Spirit, I could cheerfully 
give up all things for the gospel’s sake, but I did not always 
remain in the Spirit. Prior to those days of battling with 
self I was astonished and grieved to witness any instance in 
another, who had embraced the latter-day faith, of not being 
always in the Spirit, the right Spirit; but I learned that the 
earnal mind is not altogether vanquished when one is in¬ 
ducted into the kingdom of God, while the kingdom is on the 
unpurified earth. 

Another trial of those days was the “checkline” upon my 
independence. Perhaps I was too sensitive to my situation. 
For though my husband was giving the most of his time to 
the people, and not receiving a support in return, but only 
occasionally donations from one and another by way of helps; 
and because those helps were so much needed, I could not help 
feeling that I was an object of charity, and as such had not 
the same freedom to do with my substance as my neighbors. 
What they had was their own to do with as they pleased. 
They were not dependent upon anyone for help, and no one 
had the right to criticize. But it was different in my case, 
since those very ones who could least bear criticism took that 
right to themselves when our mode of getting along did not 
agree with their idea of what was best; consequently the 
situation was sometimes very humiliating, and sometimes 
it took a ludicrous form. To pen an instance of the latter 
might serve for variety. 

We had religiously kept our resolution not to run a “bill” 
for either groceries or dry goods, therefore I very seldom 
bought a dress; but by turning and fixing over the old ones, 
and upon rare occasions having one given to me, I managed 
to keep myself presentable. In the early autumn previous 
to the incident of which I write, Maggie, my sister-in-law, 
sent me one of those serviceable mohair dresses that she 
had worn till she was tired of, and still it was a very nice- 
looking dress. Being in the days when skirts were trimmed, 
this one in particular was entirely covered with bias puffs 
and narrow knife kilting. It was not gaudy, so I wore it 
just as it came to me during the fall and early part of the 
winter; then I took off about half the trimming and wore it 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


195 


a few months longer. When the warm weather came and I 
desired a light, cool dress, I took off every vestige of trim¬ 
ming. The first uncovered part had not faded, and so when 
it was picked, brushed and pressed, it looked quite like a 
new dress. 

During the week following the Sunday that I wore my 
new (?) dress, a brother made us a call. His errand being, 
as we afterwards learned, to consult with Mr. Burton about 
my extravagance. He was, as usual, on a bias with the 
world in general. Mr. Burton interrupted his recital of 
complaints by, “Well, brother, how about yourself? I have 
not seen you at meeting lately.” 

“No!” replied the brother, “people are so proud nowadays 
they can^t go to meeting without they wear a b’iled shirt. I 
haven’t got any, so I stay at home.” 

“I am sorry,” said Mr. Burton, “that you are so proud 
you can not go to meeting without a ‘boiled shirt,’ but if 
that is the case, bring your checked shirt to me and I will 
wear that, and you can wear my boiled shirt.” 

“I don’t want no b’iled shirt,” said the brother, “it is not 
me that is proud, it is the rest of them; and,” said he, “the 
sisters are getting proud too. It seems to me Sister Burton 
has been having a good many new dresses lately. My wife 
said she came out in a brand-new one again last Sunday, 
and I think that makes three since last fall.” 

It took the “wind out of his sails,” as a sailor would say, 
when the matter was explained. The whole circumstance 
was only laughable to us, being the exception and not the 
rule. But when some uncharitable remark would reach my 
ear, as it did from time to time, from those whose opinion I 
thought more of, and from whom I had received, it would 
almost crush me to the earth. How I have wept and prayed 
for strength to bear that hardest of all the crosses laid upon 
me, the giving up of my independence, and not having anj^- 
thing of my own, both when alone and together with my hus¬ 
band. We talked the matter over and over, to see if we 
would, or if we could make up our minds to bear it, or if 
there was not some way to escape. But when no way ap¬ 
peared except for him to leave the ministry, we, like the 
“little cross-bearer,” took up our own cross again just where 
we had laid it down to consult about having it molded in 
some different form, and tried to bear it with a better grace. 


196 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


But those trials or light afflictions are now in the past, and 
do not have to be repeated, since there is a better system 
instituted for providing for the families of the ministry. I 
have spoken of them only to give both sides of life as I 
lived it, and I can safely say that in so doing I have but 
rehearsed the experience of many others in like situation; 
and perhaps they, like me, have while living it, learned that 
“belonging to the public” is a part of the gospel work. That 
I should be willing to give for the benefit of others what I 
required when in the same stage of investigation, and that 
Jesus in his gospel work mingled with all classes to raise 
them up, and those who followed him must do the same. 
Yet, notwithstanding this amiable theory laid down for my¬ 
self, I have found that selfish feelings would sometimes as¬ 
sert themselves. There is no life but what has its shadows 
as well as its sunshine. 

But let us return to the more outward side of life, and 
trace an experience through a doubting season. Yes; after 
all I had received. When faith deserts, the mind is as bar¬ 
ren as though it had never received anything, so said the 
Savior: “If therefore the light that is in thee be darkness, 
how great is that darkness.” The first cause of my darkness 
was nonfulfillment of definite and important promises, made 
by what was claimed to be the spirit of prophecy, on certain 
conditions and within a given time; which promise was af¬ 
firmed and enlarged upon through the gift of tongues, inter¬ 
pretation given by the same person who spoke in the un¬ 
known tongue. Both being spoken in a public meeting, the 
result was looked forward to with interest by both parties. 
The conditions were religiously and prayerfully observed; 
but the time expired and the promises were not fulfilled. 
Those promises had no relation to me or mine; but the result 
brought me to a standstill, spiritually. Had it been the 
prophecy only, it would not have hurt my faith at all, since 
more experienced and more spiritually-minded men than the 
one who had spoken in this instance had mistaken their own 
strong desires for the promptings of the Spirit, and had 
uttered them as such. But to speak in an unknown tongue 
is different. The language is not their own. I reasoned 
thus: How could it be spoken except by the power of God, 
or that of the Evil One? There was no reason to believe that 
the speaker was operated upon by the evil power; and since 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


197 


it came to naught, it was not of God. Therefore, I concluded 
that it was all a delusion. 

Mr. Burton had gone to northern California with Brother 
Mills, so I had no one to confide my doubts and fears to, nor 
to set me right in the matter. It is needless to give in detail 
the experience of those few weeks. A trial of faith can 
scarcely be pictured in words, seeing it is made up of causes 
and another element combined; that is the effect that causes 
have upon individuals individually, since what is a trial to 
one is no trial at all to another; therefore I will only sketch 
a few leading features in my thoughts, such as, “If this that 
was spoken in tongues was not of God, how do I know that 
the gift of tongues is a true spiritual gift? This one has 
failed, and perhaps none of the messages thus given were by 
the voice of the Spirit. And—taking another step backwards 
—if the spiritual gifts are a delusion, the whole latter-day 
work must be also, since the whole church has from time to 
time testified 'to the truthfulness of them.” 

When faith in the latter-day work is gone, after one has 
once received and entered into that work, there is not much 
left to have faith in, not even in God; because God and the 
latter-day work are so closely connected in the mind of the 
worker believing God and Christ to be the authors and prime 
directors in it. And with no other motive in view but to 
serve God and keep his commandments, and thereby obtain 
eternal life in his kingdom, have carefully and prayerfully 
investigated the gospel claims, taking God at his word, and 
following its precepts at the sacrifice of friends and good 
name, and then find it had failed; to whom could one look, 
or in what could he believe? Hence I was at a standstill, 
losing faith in everything. I felt that it had been with us 
as with the heathen who bows down to his god of wood or 
stone, prays to him, talks with him, and thinks in doing cer¬ 
tain things he is obtaining favor. But we know all the time 
that their gods are insensible of all. 

It was a sad thought that all the newborn happiness, pre¬ 
cious promises, and lively hopes that had been such a joyous 
reality had come to naught, had vanished away. The world 
seemed all dark; darker than if I had never looked upon this 
beautiful air castle. 

Upon speaking with a sister, (the same sister who had 
given the tongue and interpretation) shortly after the above 


198 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


circumstance occurred (or circumstances, I might say, for 
there were several of a very trying nature, the one I have 
spoken of being the leading feature among them), she made 
the remark, “Perhaps the Lord will make known to some one 
of us why the promise was not fulfilled.’^ 

My reply was, “I do not know how he could convey that 
knowledge in a way that I could accept it.’^ 

“Would you not believe it if it was given in tongues?’^ 

“No! Why should I? Since we have been deceived once, 
what evidence would I have that we were not being deceived 
a second time? No; neither tongues nor prophecy would 
have any weight with me whatever. It must come in some 
other way.’^ 

Further than this, I had not spoken of my doubts and un¬ 
belief to anyone. I did not wish to destroy anyone’s faith, 
even in a delusion, and make them as miserable as I was. 
I knew not what effect my words might have, and if at some 
future time I might see differently, I might not be able even 
then to restore what I had caused them to lose, therefore 
held my peace. About this time I had a dream that added 
not a little to my despondency. 

I attended meetings as usual, but it was all an empty 
sound. It was unusual for me not to take part in prayer 
meeting, and many a fugitive glance was cast towards where 
I sat in silence. I resolved, however, to make a statement 
of all to the branch when a favorable opportunity occurred; 
that is, when there were none present but members of the 
branch, and not too many young people. The opportunity 
came before very long, more favorable than I had anticipated. 
It was in an evening meeting, the number in attendance be¬ 
ing unusually small, and all elderly people who had been 
in the church from childhood. 

After about all had spoken who were in the habit of so 
doing, I told my story, stating my feelings and giving my 
reasons. Perhaps I need scarcely say that surprise was de¬ 
picted on every face as they listened with strained ears to 
catch every word. I closed by saying, “You all know what 
faith I have had in this latter-day work, and how happy I 
have been in that faith, but it is all over now. I can not 
conscientiously take any further part in it while these diffi¬ 
culties exist. It seems to me I have been gazing upon a 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


199 


beautiful bubble that has burst, leaving nothing in its stead,” 
and in tears of sadness sat down. 

Meeting was soon dismissed. All manifested the most 
kindly feelings toward me. Some pressed my hand in silence, 
others told me the Adversary was trying to destroy me. Sis¬ 
ter Woodward, an aged sister, who had been in the church 
in the early day, who was very quiet in her manner, not 
giving any extravagant demonstrations of her feelings, came 
to me as soon as we had stepped outside the house, and put¬ 
ting her arms around me, said: 

“Sister Burton, this will all come right sometime. I can not 
say anything to you now that would do you any good, only 
that I know this work is true. I have been in it many years, 
and have passed through many trials. There are some things 
we can not understand; but just wait the Lord’s time, and he 
will bring you out of this trial stronger in the faith than 
before.” 

I felt grateful to her for her kindly interest; but as yet 
the light had not come. 

Now I must take up another thread, relating to this inci¬ 
dent. Brother J. B. Price, of Oakland, California, felt an in¬ 
clination to visit the Newport Branch; thought he wanted to 
buy some land in that vicinity. He arrived in the evening 
at the house of one of the brethren with whom he was ac¬ 
quainted. Early in the next forenoon he started out by him¬ 
self, saying he would walk down as far as Brother Burton’s 
place. I think it must have been Saturday morning, for he 
found me on my knees polishing the cooking stove. I had 
never met the brother before; but when he insisted upon 
sitting right down where he was in the kitchen, saying he 
was not going to stay long, and we could talk while I went 
on with my work of polishing the oven door, it did not seem 
to me that he was an entire stranger, and the smears of black- 
lead were not so embarrassing. 

“I came,” said he, “to buy some land, but the title is not 
sure.” 

“There is nothing sure in this world.” 

“Oh, yes!” he replied, in his kindly, genial manner, “The 
word of God is sure!” 

“Do you know that?” I quickly replied with rather more 
than ordinary interest. 

“Oh, yes, sister; I know that, and you do too, do you not?” 


200 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


“I used to think so once, but I can not say the same now.” 

Of course the brother was very much su:^rised, but with¬ 
out asking any questions went on speaking in a very positive 
manner concerning the word of God, both in ancient and 
modern times, and very soon he wended his way in the di¬ 
rection of the gifts of the gospel. 

Among other things he said: “Now the gift of tongues is a 
very beautiful gift, if one has a wisdom sufficient to know 
when to use it, and when not to; but without wisdom it often 
works a great deal of harm to branches.” 

I began to open my ears. “How so, brother ? ” 

In his reply, the following are the features that fastened 
themselves upon my memory. That all that was spoken in an 
unknown tongue was not given by the Spirit, though the gift 
be genuine. If the persons having the gift of tongues kept 
themselves humble before God, pure in thought and in word, 
having no evil in the heart, the Lord would speak through 
them to the edification of the Saints; but if such persons 
were careless in their daily life, and allowed their tongues 
to frame unclean words, the Spirit of the Lord did not speak 
through them. If they spoke in tongues, they simply spoke 
their own words in another language. And just so, too, with 
those who used their gift too commonly, speaking through it 
when not constrained by the Spirit. And he spoke much the 
same in regard to prophecy. The Lord bestows those gifts, 
and does not withdraw them. They remain for their good or 
for their hurt and that of others also, according as they are 
used. “So you see, sister,” said he, “how necessary it is 
to exercise wisdom with those gifts.” 

As he talked the light crept into my heart again, as if the 
sun had been hid behind a great, black cloud, and was now 
bursting forth again in its original splendor. I was delighted 
to know that the gospel was still on the earth, and nothing 
had been taken from the validity of its promises. 

“Brother Price,” said I, as he ceased speaking, “I think you 
must have been sent all the way from Oakland to say to me 
just what you have said. You have no idea how much good 
your words have done me. I have been under a cloud for 
several weeks because of just what you have explained to me. 
I can see the application clearly, and had I known all this 
before, it would have saved me much trouble.” 

His words had greater weight with me because, being un- 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


201 


acquainted with the circumstances that caused the trouble, 
he spoke of principles without reference to individuals. He 
expressed himself as being pleased to be of service to any in 
restoring confidence in the work, and perceiving he had al¬ 
ready stayed longer than he had intended, took leave. 

After having spent a pleasant Sunday with the Saints, he 
concluded he did not wish to purchase any land there, and re¬ 
turned to Oakland. As for me, the Lord lived again, and I 
was as hopeful and trustful in his promises as of yore. I 
was not only wiser for the time being, but armed for the 
future. 

And now while that little band of Saints had been enjoying 
the abundance of spiritual blessings, a cloud was rapidly mak¬ 
ing up in their temporal horizon that was soon to burst upon 
them like a cyclone, scattering both people and buildings.' 

The land on which the Saints had located, ourselves in¬ 
cluded, was then known as the strip of Government land be¬ 
tween the boundary lines of the Los Bolsas and Santa Ana 
grant. It had in years past been an overflow tract from the 
Santa Ana River, and was considered as being of little value. 
But when the Saints bought out the thriftless squatters, 
cleared the land, built houses, planted gardens, small orchards, 
vineyards, and alfalfa patches, and by testing the depths 
found that artesian wells could be had anywhere on the flat, 
and numbers of them were set to flowing, that tract became 
a place to be desired; then the greedy millionaires who al¬ 
ready owned immense tracts of land in that southern country, 
overlapped that little green patch, and included it among 
their broad acres, and we as settlers were drawn into an 
expensive lawsuit. “Might” won in the place of “right,” and 
those who could not come forward with a “first payment” to 
the owners of the grant, for lands they had already paid for, 
lost their homes. We again bought the front five acres of 
our place, on which were our improvements, intending to buy 
the rest as soon as we had made all the payments on that 
much. But before that time came, the Santa Ana Grant 
Company put in their claim for the disputed tract, causing a 
prolonged litigation between the two companies, which did 
not end until after our return from Australia. 

Were I writing a history of public events in that portion of 
the Lord’s vineyard, a very interesting sketch could here be 
given in connection with this land trouble. And yet it was 


202 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


but a repetition, on a small scale, of church history in all 
ages of the world where the Saints have gathered together; 
like causes having produced like effects. In view of those 
causes the Saints had been both entreated and warned, that 
notwithstanding all the blessings wherewith they had been 
blessed, if they were not faithful in observing instructions 
that had been given them, they should be “scattered to the 
four winds.” This was literally fulfilled in contradistinction 
to the clannishness of Latter Day Saints. They of that place 
went east, west, north, and south. We Saints as a rule are 
inclined to accept the promised blessings as coming from the 
Lord, while we let the warnings pass over our heads, failing 
to recognize that these are from the same source. Were it 
otherwise there would not be so many scatterings. 

There was in this instance, just the same as in all cases of 
the scattering of the Saints, an outward cause that appears to 
those who see the outward side only, to be entirely a matter 
of circumstances apart from any connection with the work 
of the Lord, and yet those same circumstances are but the 
instruments permitted to bring about the Lord’s chastenings; 
and they in their turn are chastised for their wrongdoing. 

When this sad time of scattering commenced,—by the 
edict of the United States marshal—it was a trying time to 
the Saints. In my own grief and perplexity, because of the 
strait in which we were placed, not knowing whether we 
could raise the money in the given thirty days or not, I re¬ 
member distinctly one occasion while pouring out my distress 
and complaints and questionings, “reminding” the Lord of 
the past, according to his word. (Others who had gathered 
to that place had not had all the experience in their re¬ 
moval that we had had.) I presented those things to the 
Lord. How we had had no choice in the matter of going to 
that place, only to do his will, and believing he heard and 
answered prayer, had committed the matter to him, and with 
the best judgment and understanding we could exercise, had 
followed what we believed to be his directing counsel in sell¬ 
ing our former home. We had received evidence on the way 
that he had sent us forth, and since settling there we had 
not sought our own, neither to build up ourselves, but had 
continually sacrificed for the benefit of the work, and now 
was all to be lost, and we be homeless? If so, in whom 
could we trust, and wherein was the benefit of faith? While 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


203 


thus upon my knees before the Lord, a feeling of the greatest 
assurance came over me. Wordless as it was, it was more 
powerful in conveying knowledge than any words could have 
been, and I arose from my knees satisfied that all would yet 
be well. 

In entering this complaint, though, I had forgotten that we 
had made at least one mistake in our past life in the church; 
namely, when the Lord had sent us a buyer for our place in 
San Benito, and at our own figures, and we received payment 
in full, we had failed to send a tenth to the Lord’s storehouse. 
Therefore, while not observing the law in temporal things, 
we were not entitled by any promises of the Lord to temporal 
prosperity. But in his goodness he prepared the way be¬ 
fore us, so that little by little the payments were met un¬ 
til all was clear again. 

Meantime, notwithstanding those changes of some leaving 
and others buying in, for this was only the beginning of that 
scattering, the gospel work must still go on, though the 
spiritual power begin to wane. A good interest was created 
at the “Azusa,” and Elder Burton was there holding meet¬ 
ings. I had always said to my husband, when he spoke of 
remaining at home to provide for our necessities, “If you will 
leave us one sack of flour, we will be all right.” And so I 
said this time when he was casting in his mind whether to go 
there or hunt work. But this time the sack was not full. I 
do not now remember just how long he had been gone, but on 
a certain Friday, as I was considering what to cook, I saw 
that I could not possibly make what provisions we had last 
over Sunday, but cheered myself by saying, “This is not 
gone yet. Perhaps when it is, more will come.” I had prided 
myself a little on never having called him from his field of 
mission work; not even when Dora was hurt did I say. Come 
home; and never asking aid from anyone but the Father of 
all mercies. Nor did I wish to do so at this time. Frank 
was at work at a distance from home, and Dora was visiting 
her aunt in San Francisco, which left Addie and I by our¬ 
selves. 

Early in the day of which I speak. Sister Betts came in to 
talk over a plan she and Brother Betts had arranged in re¬ 
gard to us. “What is the use,” she said, “of your staying 
here alone? You might just as well go to the ‘Azusa’ and 
stay while Brother Burton is there. It would add to the in- 


204 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


terest of the meetings to have you there to sing. Mr. Betts 
thought he would like to go over and spend Sunday, both to 
help Brother Burton and to enjoy the meetings, and we will 
take you over if you would like to go. My boy will come 
every morning and feed the fowls, and see that everything 
is all right.” 

“But the cow. Sister Betts, what will I do with her?” 

“We will take care of her, too, and will like to do it for 
the milk.” 

Of course I accepted her kind offer, and regarded it as a 
provision made for us. So I freely cooked what provisions 
there were in the house for a lunch to eat on the road, it 
being a long day’s drive. Our provisions being ample for 
that, no one knew but what there was plenty more left in 
the house. 

When we were leaving the house, Addie said, “You haven’t 
locked the door, mother!” 

“No,” I replied, “because I have asked the Lord to send 
us some food while we are away, and have left the door un¬ 
locked, so it can be put in the house.” 

She looked at me with wide open eyes, and added, “But 
what if some one else would come that the Lord did not send, 
and take something out?” 

“I am not afraid of that.” 

During our absence Brother French of the Laguna Branch 
was passing through the place, and not being able to reach 
home that night, soliloquized thus: “I always make Brother 
Burton’s house my stopping place when in this neighborhood, 
and I don’t feel like making any change, although I know 
they are all away. I know I shall be welcome. The only 
question is if I can get in the house. So he drove into the 
yard and put his horses into the barn. The door being un¬ 
locked he had no trouble in walking into the house. It was 
near dark and he was hungry. Knowing about where the 
provisions lived—when they were at home—^he set about 
getting himself some supper. But he did not make a very 
sumptuous repast, since all he found was a few eggs, about 
two handfuls of com meal that had been ground in the 
coffee mill for the chickens, and a little vinegar. He said, 
when telling us of his lonely visit, “When I found everything 
so full of emptiness in the pantry, I took a look about the 
house generally, not to see what there was in the house, but 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


205 


what there was not, and found more space than anything 
else.” 

When he got home and had a talk with the kind-hearted 
Saints about his adventure, they made up a purse of twenty 
dollars. Then he went to town and laid it out to good ad¬ 
vantage, and made Brother Burton’s house another call. 

When we came home Addie and I entered the house to¬ 
gether. As we did so I saw a sack of flour standing against 
the wall near the door. 

“Ah!” I exclaimed, “see; there is our sack of flour! I knew 
it would come. But where is the kitchen table?” 

“Perhaps you left it in the front room when you finished 
ironing,” said Addie. 

Of course I looked in the room, though I was confident it 
was in the kitchen when we left. No; it was not in the front 
room either. Then I went to the pantry, not because I ex¬ 
pected to find it there, but as a last resort, just as a man 
fingers his vest pockets while in search of his pocketbook, 
slippers, or umbrella when lost. Well, I did not see the table; 
but what was on it almost took my breath away. If it could 
have spoken it would have said, “I am so glad you have come 
home, for I am aching all over, holding this great load, and be¬ 
ing squeezed up in this little place, where I never was be¬ 
fore.” 

There were three or four sacks of flour and corn meal, a 
bolt of unbleached muslin, a pattern of dress goods, a variety 
of groceries, a sack of potatoes, and even corn to feed the 
fowls. Tears of gratitude filled my eyes, and I did just what 
a great many others would have done under the same circum¬ 
stances, rushed off by myself to thank the Lord for his good¬ 
ness. It was not long till we learned, from a little note 
found between the leaves of the family Bible, to whom we 
owed our thanks. 


CHAPTER 11 


“God moves in a mysterious way, 

His wonders to perform.” 

I WILL open this chapter by giving one of the several in¬ 
stances of the exercise, of the gift of healing, while in that 
locality. Sister Mary Ann Barr being the subject. If my 
memory serves me rightly in regard to the first cause of her 
affliction, it was from a diseased tooth on the under jaw. 
However, the side of her face and glands of her throat were 
badly swollen. She had been administered to by the elders 
and had received the desired blessing at the time, and was 
about her work again, but upon getting her feet wet took 
cold and became even worse than at first. The elders were 
called again, but no relief was received. The swelling kept 
extending down around her neck and into her throat till both 
she and her husband became alarmed lest it should increase 
to strangulation. Brother R. Huntley was living with them, 
and as I afterwards learned, said, “If I were you I would 
send for Sister Burton,” citing instances where blessings 
had been immediately received. So a young man came in a 
wagon for me, while Brother Barr rode on horseback rapidly 
on past our house to the hopyard for hops, having about lost 
hopes of her being healed. I was far from being well; had 
a stiff neck, so that I could not turn my head. I felt as in¬ 
significant as a worm of the dust, when asked to go on such 
an errand. But since she had sent and was in distress, I 
could not refuse to go and pray for her. Her head was forced 
over on one side by the swelling. It was not of a puffy na¬ 
ture, but was solid, and extended over the whole side of her 
face and neck and her jaws were set. Weak and simple as 
the prayer was, the Lord heard it, and as the healing power 
descended to her, it wrought its beneficent influence upon 
me also. The swelling so far disappeared that the outline of 
her jawbone was plainly visible, and continued to diminish, 
so that when her husband came in a few minutes later, she 
was sitting up in bed and laughingly said: “We have no need 
of your hops!” 

He stood as if riveted to the spot when he saw her, and 
gazed in astonishment. “I see you have not!” said he, as the 
look of anxiety gave place to a most radiant expression. We 


BEATRICE WFirfERSPOON 


207 


all felt an overflowing sense of gratitude to God for his good¬ 
ness. I came home liberated from the bondage that held my 
head in check. 

I am aware that this testimony will be subject to criticism. 
I have not given it to vaunt myself, nor to reflect upon any 
other; but as one instance among several within the limits of 
my experience where God does “move in a mysterious way.” 
For it is God who heals, be the instrument whomsoever it 
may be. 

But I would not have the reader understand that our lives 
were entirely given to the things of a solemn nature, neither 
of the prosy or distressing. There is much of the everyday 
life nature to be read between the lines of all that I have 
written, in which all the family had their part; of our am¬ 
bition and pleasure in fixing up the new place; of making 
garden and feasting from its generous yield; of little by little 
getting fruit trees planted, and a miniature vineyard set out, 
and making flower gardens; of training rose trees, honey¬ 
suckles, and a flourishing grapevine against the house, and 
having the pleasure of seeing them grow till the sweet, red 
rose peeped in at the chamber window; and the south side of 
the house well shaded by the broad leaves of the grapevine, 
while the rich clusters of grapes hung temptingly against the 
window glass, and the honeysuckle on the north side made 
our sleeping room fragrant with its sweet odor; and the 
weeping willow trees, whose long tendrils still sway to the 
gentle breeze and make low bows over the crystal rill ever 
flowing from the artesian well. Also of pleasant outing 
parties to the beach, where, after a most enjoyable day, we 
would return with most uncomfortably sunburned faces. And 
of dainty lunches gathered upon short notice sometimes, and 
all hands scrambled into a big farm wagon, where one or 
two families were in waiting, and off to the bramble patch 
for a day^s blackberrying, saying nothing of the anticipation 
and enjoyment of the May Day. 

And it seems to me I ought not overlook the history of my 
pig. It was given me by Sister Walker, of Los Nietos. It 
was a Poland China, three months old when I brought her 
home, and a little beauty, valued at ten dollars. I have some¬ 
thing of a knack or gift for civilizing the animal kingdom, and 
she, too, grew to understand me. In course of time she fairly 
electrified the children one morning by walking out of a 


208 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


clump of tumbleweed, followed by eight of the cutest, dumpi¬ 
est, chubbiest little creatures that ever were called pigs. And 
so docile as they grew that the school children who passed 
through our yard for a short cut home stopped awhile each 
night to play with the pigs. I heartlessly sold them, one 
after another, which brought me quite a little income, and 
last of all, when we broke up housekeeping, sold the mother 
also. Many household comforts were secured by this fund. 
When it had all slipped away but five dollars, I determined 
to lay that aside till some opportunity offered to put it out 
at interest, ^that is, obtain something that would increase. I 
had already been dabbling in sundry agencies, which proved 
to be more trouble than profit, and was looking for something 
better in the same line. I had not long to wait. I was soon 
introduced to “Wilson^s dress cutting system,” learned, 
purchased, taught, and have bought and sold more or less of 
them ever since. But I am anticipating, and must return. 

As the years passed away the children grew, and since no 
more little ones came to join our household, I took short trips 
away from home with my husband from time to time, leaving 
the children to keep house. How pleasant, both then and to 
remember, the starting out on those long drives, just after 
the dawning of the day; having tiptoed about the house get¬ 
ting our breakfast without disturbing the children, while Mr. 
Burton hitched up the horses and pretty nearly loaded up the 
wagon, for we took our provisions and bedding along with us. 
Everybody knows there is an indescribable beauty and sweet¬ 
ness of the early morning before the bulk of humanity is 
astir, which we enjoyed keenly. After an hour or so of driv¬ 
ing in this delicious quiet, looking at the dew sparkling on 
grass and herbs by the wayside; the fowls congregating in 
farmyards as if having a little gossip and telling their 
dreams while waiting for their morning meal; cows getting 
up and stretching themselves lazily, while chewing their cuds, 
waiting to be milked; a little volley of smoke would be seen 
here and there, ascending from farmhouse chimneys, and 
blinds beginning to roll up. Occasionally, when it seemed 
as if we had been on the road nearly half a day, and the sun 
stood all aglow a full yard above the hills, a tardy farmer 
would emerge from a redwood house with an untidy yard, 
having a very drowsy look about his head, and a milk pail in 
his hand, making his way clumsily to the corral where the 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


209 


pent-up cows stood blinking in the sun, with a weary, dis¬ 
couraged expression, giving vent to their impatience by the 
vigorous manner in which they lashed the flies from their 
bodies. 

Perhaps I left the children more often than I ought to 
have done. But, ah me! I fear I did many things, as a 
mother, that I ought not to have done, and left many things 
undone that I ought to have done. They never complained, 
though, were always willing to stay, both day and night. 
Neighbors were handy, and no tramps ever came that way; 
still I often wondered if they felt timid, and desired very 
much to know but would never ask them, lest it might be con¬ 
strued into admitting of such a possibility. The words 
“afraid” and “fear” were carefully avoided in their hearing. 
I did not wish them to know that such an element existed. I 
never heard them speak of feeling afraid. I remembered of 
once hearing Frank, when a little chap, say, ‘T just as leave 
go anywhere in the dark as in the light, if I didn’t tumble 
over things.” We never left them, however, without first 
solemnly invoking God’s blessing upon them, and his protect¬ 
ing care over them, though they heard it not; and when upon 
our return we would find them well, and that everything had 
gone on all right, and they seemed content, we were simple 
enough to believe that the All-Father had heard our prayer 
and had given his angels special charge concerning them. 
With them the promise of a new book on our return seemed 
sufficient compensation for being left alone. Then followed 
such enjoyable evenings! Near the coast, where the fog is 
prevalent, there are few evenings, even in summer time, that 
a little fire in a grate or fireplace does not add to one’s com¬ 
fort; and what comfort we all took with a pleasant fire that 
made more glow than heat. The husband and father on one 
side of the table, occupied with his books, and I on the other 
side with the children hovering close about me, while I read 
their book to them. I believe memory lingers more fondly 
about those pages in the life book, than all others. Those 
together with the cold, rainy days that succeed each other in 
such dreariness and discomfort to all without, in the Cali¬ 
fornia winters; but within they were looked forward to with 
pleasant anticipation, especially by the children, because we 
converted them into our happiest days. They were our read¬ 
ing days. How vividly they still linger in memory! as though 


210 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


I could even now see the two girls exerting themselves to 
help get the morning's work done up early, while Frank gets 
a good supply of wood in the house to feed the fire in the 
front room, where the table is drawn up comfortably near it. 
Mr. Burton is seated on his favorite side of the table, with 
“the box of old Heralds ’*—^back numbers—on another chair 
near him, that were being distributed in little piles on the 
corners of the box, the floor, and the table, few or many. 
And when we are ready to join company there is a very 
satisfied looking man enjoying their contents. We bring our 
book and draw our chairs up at the other side. The room is 
not arranged for callers on those days, but for home enjoy¬ 
ment; and everybody was at liberty to strew the table as 
much as he pleased. Nor was the father disturbed in the 
least by my reading loud enough for the children to hear. 
Yes! Those are the brightest pages in all my life book. How 
truly I wish there were more of them! How I now wish I had 
more often heeded the quiet pleadings for another evening’s 
reading; pleading of eyes and manner more than of words: 
wish that I had left the inexorable work undone. What of it 
if the floors were not scrubbed or the mending all done! 
Those things pass away and are forgotten; but not so with 
what makes life happy or unhappy. On the one hand it is 
a joy for ever; but on the other, tears will not blot it from 
memory, nor make it right, though they be shed over and 
over again. 

Perhaps the reader would like to know what our reading 
matter was. In reply, I will say, it varied according to our 
mood. Upon those rainy days it was such as would amuse 
and interest children. Stories that are true to life, the in¬ 
nocent and natural side of life. Miss Alcott being our favorite 
author. The Hope was never overlooked. On Saturday nights 
it was our Sunday school lesson. Yet I remember some very 
pleasant evenings when I read the inspired narratives of the 
earth being cleansed by fire, made pure and holy for the 
abode of the righteous; of the beautiful city, coming down 
“from God out of heaven,” wherein was no darkness neither 
anything that “loveth or maketh a lie.” But those times 
would be while we were alone and feeling a tinge of loneli¬ 
ness, as well as a mood of inquiry into the things of the king¬ 
dom. At such times the Spirit enlightened our minds, giv¬ 
ing understanding. But I did not deem it wisdom to mar the 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


211 


reverence in which those sacred writings were held, by an en¬ 
forced study or reading, when the feelings were not in har¬ 
mony with them, or in a condition to receive. 

So much for between the lines. But written on the lines 
in black and white were land payments and lawyer’s fees, 
and something must be done to meet those demands. Frank’s 
wages, though good, could not keep the family and pay the 
debts too. After much consideration there seemed but one 
way open to us, which was to break up housekeeping, since 
Frank was very soon to go away in the country for the sea¬ 
son’s work; and we had agreed to let Dora go to Los Angeles 
City to live with a lady cousin of Mr. Burton’s, principally 
because she would have advantages there that could not be 
had at home. So we accepted Sister Penfold’s invitation for 
Addie to make her home with her and go to school, assisting 
with the light work mornings and evenings; and I entered 
upon the life of an itinerant with my husband in the gospel 
work. And so it came about that our household was broken 
up. This was only intended to last a few months, but we 
were never all at home together again for any length of time. 
We knew not then that the way was being prepared for us 
to take the gospel to our people in Nova Scotia. The Lord 
was working in answer to prayer, and making those very 
debts which we thought were barriers to all hopes of taking 
that trip for many years, the means of paving the way. 
When this breaking up was accomplished we went so far 
north as Hollister, visiting all the branches, strengthening 
the Saints, and preaching by the way. Took a limited camp¬ 
ing outfit, and blankets for the night, to make our bed be¬ 
neath the blue canopy of the sky when nothing more favor¬ 
able offered. The country was very sparsely settled, and it 
was nothing unusual for travelers to provide for themselves 
in like manner; consequently little or no notice was taken of 
it by those in whose inclosures we often camped. For the 
most part we conformed very cheerfully and comfortably to 
this mode of traveling. But sometimes, at those putting-up 
places, while preparing our supper at the camp fire, the 
savory odor of beefsteak frying in the farmer’s kitchen 
would come floating out on the chill evening air and greet 
our nasal organs in a very tantalizing manner, making the 
mixed and steamy smell of our lunch box more distasteful 
than before. And sometimes after a tiresome day’s drive I 


212 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


thought longingly of a good, clean bed to rest our weary 
bodies upon for the night; but when we had the privilege of 
making our bed on good, clean hay in a barn, the morning 
would find us as much refreshed as if we had occupied the 
best bed in the land, notwithstanding barley beards and clover 
burs. Upon rare occasions, when Mr. Burton had oppor¬ 
tunity for a few minutes’ conversation with the good man 
of the house, in which he would make known his calling and 
the object of our traveling, we would be invited to spend the 
evening in the house. But unfortunately most of those stop¬ 
ping places were wayside inns stationed at the end of each 
day’s journey, for the accommodation of teaming, where hay, 
grain, and water could be had. I like to remember that long 
pleasant drive. Being comfortably shaded from the sun, we 
took books and papers along. While one read the other 
guided the horses ; and withal the anticipation of visiting our 
first home in California, and also the people who had shared 
our joys and sorrows when we first embraced the latter-day 
work, which anticipations were in due time realized. Time 
passed rapidly, and all too soon we had to say good-by, and 
wend our way homeward. 

One of our favorite lines of travel in the southern country 
about that time, was to Hueneme, Ventura County. It was a 
four days’ drive from our place, and meetings were held in 
all the valleys and settlements on the way where an opening 
could be made. Pleasant Valley, the Conajo, and Hueneme 
being the principal places. But notwithstanding a miracle 
was wrought in each of these places, by the power of God, 
and acknowledged as such by the people, and many were con¬ 
vinced of the gospel claims, few indeed yielded obedience to 
its demands. Among those were a Mr. and Mrs. Livingston, 
of Hueneme. I mention these names by way of introduction, 
for I shall have more to say of them farther on. 

Upon one of those tours we reached the Conajo towards 
evening of a Saturday, and were cordially received into the 
house of a Mr. and Mrs. Greace. Mr. Greace, though not a 
religious man, was kind-hearted and hospitable to all, per¬ 
haps out of respect for the religious sentiments of his wife. 
He secured for Mr. Burton the use of the hall, in which serv¬ 
ices were held every evening for a week and twice on the 
two Sundays, which services were well attended by the peo¬ 
ple of the neighborhood, who represented almost as many 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


213 


denominations as there were families, consequently there was 
no local preacher. 

On the last Sunday evening, after Mr. Burton had preached 
on the restoration of the gospel, he gave liberty for anyone 
who desired more information, to ask any questions they 
desired. Now there was present a Mr. Howard Mills, who 
had lost his voice and had not spoken aloud for four years. 
He being a Christian gentleman and deeply interested in 
what he had heard, arose and went near the stand, and while 
asking some questions in regard to the restoration of the 
gifts and power of God, his daughter, the village school¬ 
teacher, wrote on a slip of paper, “Ask Mr. Burton to lay 
hands on you and restore your voice,” and passed the paper 
to her father, in answer to which Mr. Burton said the power 
to restore was not his, but it rested with God; that he would 
not lay hands upon him there, but if he chose to accompany 
us to the home of Mr. Greace at the close of the meeting, he 
would administer the ordinance to him. He did so, accom¬ 
panied by his daughter and Mr. and Mrs. Wilson, of the Ad¬ 
ventist faith. After some conversation with Mr. Mills, all 
knelt in solemn reverence as if in the presence of God, while 
Mr. Burton offered an earnest, candid petition to the Father 
of us all, and the source of all such gifts and blessings as was 
then desired. During that prayer Mr. Mills’s nominal faith in 
God as a hearer and answerer of prayer was converted into 
a reality. He was then administered to. It being near mid¬ 
night, the friends soon departed. Early next morning we 
started on our journey again, without knowing the result of 
the administration; but this is what we learned afterwards 
from Mr. Mills himself: After retiring that night he felt a 
peculiar sensation in his throat, and from that time his voice 
began to return; that is, it was weak at first, but by the fol¬ 
lowing Wednesday—^that is in three days—it was fully re¬ 
stored, so that he could shout. The circumstance created 
no small commotion in the vicinity round about. In fact, 
wherever Mr. Mills and the circumstance were known, even 
in Minneapolis, his former home, it was published in the 
newspaper and commented on as a marked evidence of God’s 
power and goodness to his children. But the name of the 
church represented by the officiating servant of the Lord did 
not appear in the Minneapolis paper. Those on the Conajo 
acknowledged the healing to have been through the adminis- 


214 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


tration, yet none, not even Mr. Mills, gave God the glory by 
obeying his commandments. Such instances, though, are not 
without parallel in former days. Many were healed by our 
Lord when he was on earth who went their own way after¬ 
ward, instead of turning to follow him. 

Shortly before the occurrence referred to above, Brother 
Livingston, of Hueneme, was thrown from his buggy and 
struck his back on a hard, jagged piece of ground, and was 
very badly hurt. His injuries were internal. As soon as 
practicable after he was brought home and the doctor had 
done what he could for him, but shook his head discourag- 
ingly as to final results. Sister Livingston wrote to Mr. Bur¬ 
ton to call the Saints together and have a season of prayer in 
behalf of her husband, stating his critical condition, and if 
possible for Mr. Burton to come to them. But this missive 
was in the regular course of mail travel three days getting 
to us, and reached us about noon on a Saturday. Mr. Bur¬ 
ton and I had a brief season of prayer for him immediately 
after reading the letter. Then, according to previous inten¬ 
tion, Mr. Burton went to Laguna Canyon to be with the 
Saints there over Sunday, leaving word with the president of 
the branch at Newport—P. M. Betts—^to notify the Saints of 
Sister Livingston’s request, and to observe the same on Sun¬ 
day morning. At the Laguna, word went speedily from 
house to house that there was to be an especial prayer meet¬ 
ing at Brother Goff’s that evening. But many miles lay be¬ 
tween some of the dwelling places of the Saints of that 
branch, so notwithstanding their eagerness and haste in their 
Saturday evening’s work it was late for a meeting hour— 
near nine o’clock when all got together. About an hour had 
been spent in earnest supplication to God, when upon rising 
from their knees, a little lad about twelve years old—Sher¬ 
man Goff by name—stood up in their midst and said with all 
confidence. ^‘Brothers, your prayers are heard; Brother Liv¬ 
ingston is healed” and sat down again. Immediately another 
brother stood up and testified, saying he saw in vision while 
another brother was praying. Brother Livingston lying upon 
a bed and two personages of light (I am not certain whether 
it was two personages or one) approach and lay hands upon 
his head. Following this, another brother prophesied that he 
was healed. 

Now there were two or three persons present, relatives of 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


215 


Brother Goff, who were not in the faith. They made this re¬ 
mark: “How do these people know whether the man is dead 
or alive? He was in a very critical condition when the let¬ 
ter was written, and that was four days ago; he may be dead 
and buried for aught they know. This will be a strong test 
for them, and we will see how it turns out.’^ But the Saints 
accepted the witness of the Spirit and rendered fervent 
thanks to God for his blessings and the meeting was dis¬ 
missed, and Mr. Burton wrote down the testimonies to be 
forwarded to Brother and Sister Livingston. But how was 
the case with Brother Livingston during this interval? He 
was a great sufferer. Physicians were called and did what 
they could do for him. They held a consultation among them¬ 
selves; after which they told him it was not in their power 
to save him. That it was only a question of time now, and 
advised if he had any business to settle he had better attend 
to it at once, since a few days were all that he could live, 
limiting the time “until Sunday.’^ So the lawyer was sent 
for, and in great weariness and fatigue on the sick man’s 
part, and sorrow and anxiety on that of his family, his 
business was all settled, even to arrangements about his 
burial. I think it was on Saturday when this work was com¬ 
pleted; and when doctors and lawyers had gone, and to gain 
a little rest, the nurse, too, was dismissed from the room, 
his wife only remained by his bedside. 

“Is it possible,” he said, as he turned a sad, anxious look 
upon his wife, “that it is all over with me in this life? That 
I must go and leave you all? .How I wish Mr. Burton were 
here with us now. I some way feel that if he were here it 
might not be so.” 

Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Livingston were members at that 
time. They were baptized during Mr. Burton’s next visit, not 
very long after the sickness. 

“I have not given up hopes,” replied his wife. “You know 
the doctors gave you till Sunday to live, and if nothing has 
happened to the letter it will reach them before that time; 
and if it does I have great faith in the result.” 

About ten o’clock Saturday evening he fell into a deep 
sleep, and slept all night. Upon waking Sunday morning 
he called for his clothes and got up and dressed himself. On 
Monday he walked out to his store and back again. 

Sister Livingston gloried in the latter-day faith. And when 


216 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


the letter from Mr. Burton reached her telling of the result 
of the meeting, she was in no way backward about reading it 
to the many who came to the house to see for themselves if 
the rumor of Mr. Livingston’s sudden recovery were true. 
Consequently the circumstances were well known all through 
the surrounding country. 


CHAPTER 12 

I N the following autumn, being that of 1881, we fell in 
with Brother Haws, who was then traveling in the in¬ 
terest of district schools, (or rather in his own interests) 
selling Mr. Bancroft’s school maps, his reason being the 
same as that of ourselves; namely, in need of money and 
must raise it some way. The territory he had secured in¬ 
cluded that of San Bernardino and San Diego counties. It 
was nearing the rainy season. Brother Haws drove but one 
horse and an open buggy, and since five hundred miles lay 
between him and his home, he was anxious to commence re¬ 
tracing his steps, and offered Mr. Burton those two counties, 
and a portion of Los Angeles County, if he would faithfully 
visit each school district and school, saying, “Mr. Bancroft’s 
terms are sufficiently liberal to encourage anyone to accept.” 

Brother Claud Rodger was one among the brethren who 
encouraged Mr. Burton to accept the offer, which he did. 

He tendered his resignation as district president but it 
was not accepted, though all were in favor for him to make 
the tour if he wished since it was to get money to carry the 
gospel to Nova Scotia. Since we had broken up housekeeping, 
I of course accompanied him, taking with me a sufficient 
supply of the “New York Eclipse” dress cutting systems to 
do some canvassing also. 

For t^e most part it was a lonely road, and when it bor¬ 
dered on the line between California and Mexico, it seemed 
as if we had the world all to ourselves, so very rarely were 
any signs of life visible. 

It was not a favorite locality for travelers on that ridge 
of mountains that abounded with fastnesses, since it was a 
favorite haunt for “cowboys” and banditti with their spoils 
from California. But we were neither fearful nor lonesome. 
We took our gospel lunch box along, and as usual, dined by 
the wayside many times, wheh there was no friendly habi¬ 
tation. Oh, such mountains and rocky roads I never passed 
over before! It was up, up, up, for the last three days be¬ 
fore reaching the extreme end of our journey, with very little 
level or down grade. During the last afternoon before reach¬ 
ing the extreme boundary of San Diego, as we drove along 
on the very ridge of a mountain peak, our attention was ar¬ 
rested by a white, fleecy-looking substance gradually rising 


218 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


to view, as if creeping up the side of the mountain. At first 
we thought there must be a fire lower down, and the smoke 
ascending. The thought of a warm fire somewhere was com¬ 
fortable, for we were blue with cold; still it did not look just 
like smoke. Presently it came in greater bulk, and proved to 
be a white cloud sailing along just beyond the trees a few 
rods distant. Yes, we were above the clouds. 

But the tavern at which we were obliged to spend the 
night had more indications of being in the ^‘pit.” The cut 
and scarred visage of that coarse piece of humanity, dignified 
by the name of “landlady,” was enough to arouse the sus¬ 
picions of anyone; and the talk in the barroom, and at table, 
was not calculated to allay them. It was of an incident that 
occurred the day before, namely, the murder of a man, whose 
body was found hanging to a tree by the roadside a short 
distance from the hotel. 

Perhaps no one but ourselves traveled that road unarmed. 
Even the school-teacher carried a large revolver at her side. 
I felt grateful indeed upon waking the next morning all safe 
and sound. 

Upon our return home, which was near Christmas time, 
and profit and loss counted, the figures showed that the sales 
of my dress cutting system had a little more than offset our 
expenses, and the school enterprise had given sufficient re¬ 
turns to clear us of debt and some over. 

The children came home for the holidays. That was the 
last Christmastide for us when we had the children at home 
with us. Once only since then have we spent Christmas to¬ 
gether; then we were the guests of our children. 

And now it seemed to us the time had come to make our 
long-talked-of visit to Nova Scotia, and it was not very long 
till our plans were outlined for a mission to our native land, 
and sanctioned by Brother Joseph; that we should start in 
time to attend the General Conference, which was to be held 
that year, 1882, at Independence; and from thence Mr. Bur¬ 
ton would be sent as missionary to Nova Scotia; and also 
gave permission to receive whatever the brethren and sisters 
chose to donate towards defraying the expenses on the mis¬ 
sion. 

I think it was the latter part of February when we went 
forth again with maps and charts through a portion of Los 
Angeles County, laying aside the income towards our antici- 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


219 


pated mission. One of those days lingers yet very vividly in 
memory. Our conversation had been touching the deep things 
of the kingdom. The gospel was invariably our theme, and 
this was one of the days when spiritual things seemed real 
and tangible, so strong was its confirming influence. While 
speaking of God’s promises to the children of men, and con¬ 
firmed to the latter-day prophet, that so long as the bow was 
seen in the clouds there should be seedtime and harvest, I 
remarked to Mr. Burton, 

“I have been looking for the bow all this season, but have 
not seen it yet. To-day is just such a day as one might ex¬ 
pect to see a rainbow, there being occasional light showers 
and sunshine, but none has appeared. If there is still to be 
‘seedtime and harvest,’ I would like to see the sign of the 
Lord’s covenant.” And when in a very few minutes a most 
beautiful bow arched the whole heavens, its bright colors 
touching the ground not three feet from the wagon wheels, it 
was so literally in answer to my desire, it seemed like speak¬ 
ing to the Lord face to face, as if his words to me were, “Look 
now upon the bow and be assured.” We did indeed gaze, ad¬ 
mire; and our souls exulted in the goodness of our God. 

Again our conversation had drifted to the incident I wrote 
to the Hope, under the title of “Who was the stranger?” I 
felt that it was a great loss not to have known what was 
said to me by the “stranger,” and wondered if it could not be 
made known to us, when the thought came to me in these 
words: “As you have cleared the road for me,—of the poles 
that lay across it,—so the way shall be open to you wherever 
you want to go.” I rehearsed the words to my husband, and 
together we took a tour in thought, back through the past 
years of our life, and recounted many incidents where it 
seemed as if some unseen guardian had prepared the way for 
me. Notably among them was our coming to California, how 
readily the way opened up when once I had set my mind upon 
accompanying my husband, and in contemplating the near 
future, how the way had been, and was still being prepared 
for us to accomplish our desire to take the gospel to Nova 
Scotia. (True, Brother George had preceded us; that is, he 
had gone home to his family, but had not succeeded in mak¬ 
ing friends to the cause. Perhaps there is much in the words, 
“How shall they preach except they be sent?”) 

Speaking further at that time on the subject of our going. 


220 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


and how wonderful it seemed that the way had been opened 
to us, I said: “But I am still deficient of means to get a 
good warm shawl, and I do not see how I can go without 
one, nor how I can spare the money to get one, seeing we 
are about sold out, and there are so many things I really 
must have.” 

Presently Mr. Burton said, as he drew the lines on the 
horses, “Well, there is your shawl, if you have a mind to get 
out and get it!” 

How comfortable that all-wool, modest-colored shawl looked, 
lying there at one side of the road, folded so neatly. Indeed, I 
was not long in securing it, and rejoiced in the possession. 
But presently I remembered it was not mine; some one had 
lost it, and although it bore evidence that the one who lost 
it was not a poor woman, she would doubtless be pleased to 
recover it again. But how was I to find the owner? This 
would not be an easy matter, seeing that was the thorough¬ 
fare for travelers from East Los Angeles and Pasadena to 
and from the trains. As we were to leave the vicinity in 
two days, I thought the best I could do, besides making in¬ 
quiries where we stopped, was to carry it conspicuously on 
my lap during those two days, and watch everyone we 
passed to see if any seemed to recognize it. And since no 
one took any notice of it, I concluded it was lost for me to 
find by some one who could afford to lose it. And had I been 
given the privilege of having all the wholesale stores in Los 
Angeles to choose from, I could not have found one more 
suitable or to my taste. It did good service for a decade and 
more; nor did I ever find the previous owner. 

Yet notwithstanding the timely helps that came in one 
way and another, and also our great desire to once more 
visit the dear old home of our childhood, parents, brothers, 
and sisters, and tell them face to face of the glad tidings, 
that in very deed the gospel was again restored to the earth 
in its fullness, these preparations were not consummated 
without heartaches. 

It made me feel sad to see our team sold. The horses had 
been our daily companions in all our travels, and the light, 
handy little wagon had been our home for the past year or 
more; its cover our roof and shelter. These, with two cows, 
were sold, and the money used for the mission. 

But that was much easier borne than the thoughts of leav- 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


221 


ing the children so long. It was more of a trial at the last 
than I had anticipated. However, they seemed quite con¬ 
tent. Addie was very pleasantly situated in Los Angeles, 
where she had the best of school advantages, such as could 
not be had in our own neighborhood, and where she could 
be with Dora more or less every day. Her ambition was to 
fit herself for a teacher, and the school advantages offset in 
a measure the absence of father and mother. But not so 
with Frank. There was little indeed of brightness or pleas¬ 
ure held out to him, except that found in faithfully serving 
his employer, with no home comforts when the day^s work 
was done, which caused a pang in the mother heart, and for 
a time I wavered in my desire, feeling that I had rather not 
go after all. But when the good-by had been said, and our 
faces were turaed towards the East, our journey throughout 
was fraught with much interest and pleasure, enhanced 
greatly by the expectation and realization of meeting with 
the Saints in General Conference, it being the first time that 
privilege was ours, which privilege was appreciated and 
enjoyed; also our call at Saint Joseph, and visit at Lamoni. 
Then a short visit in Boston with my brother Harris and his 
wife. Thence to Digby, Nova Scotia, by steamer, and Kent- 
ville by train. 

We had not notified our people what time to expect us, 
further than that we would eat strawberries with them in 
June. I wished to see if we would be recognized after an 
absence of thirteen years. So there was no one at the station 
to meet us, and that station was something like ten miles 
distant. But we were favored in finding a young man in 
town who was going right past father’s house and -he kindly 
took us along for two dollars. Our drive was not a pleasant 
one on that cold afternoon, in a big, clumsy wagon, and much 
of the way was over frozen ground. The road never had 
seemed so long before. I was in a tremor of excitement and 
eagerness to get home. Who can describe the weird feelings 
that sweep over one at such times? I knew not whether it 
was an ecstacy of delight or a fantastic loneliness, as we 
drew near to our immediate neighborhood, the one mile from 
the meetinghouse down to the old homestead, the road over 
which I had passed so often. There was the knoll on which 
the old schoolhouse stood; here was the very spot where I 


222 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


had met the ‘‘stranger”; a little beyond was father’s dyke, 
where, 

On many a bright day, 

I had hied me away. 

To toss and rake 
The new mown hay. 

And the same scary causeway, made a little more secure 
than it used to be, but no railings, and the tide still flowed 
well up to the surface. The schoolhouse, too; that was in my 
school days the new schoolhouse. How familiar it all looked, 
and yet how strange. 

Oh! at last our eyes were greeted with the most preciously 
familiar of all objects, the dear old homestead. Yes; the 
house was of the same color still, looking as dignified and 
grand from its elevated position as mamma herself. That 
house always seemed to have an individuality of its own. 
And the thoughts of mother were so closely associated with 
it, that to behold the one was to see the other. But there 
had been some changes in these years. Father and mother 
had become aged, and my brother Holmes was owner of the 
homestead, and they occupied a cottage on the opposite side 
of the road. Thither we bent our steps. 

The sun had already settled behind a bank of cold, gray 
clouds when we were reined up in front of the wicket gate. 
No one was in sight. With a vague fear that no one was 
at home, I ran to the house as fast as my benumbed limbs 
would carry me, and shut myself in the hall, then knocked at 
the room door and listened for steps. Presently mother 
opened the door. 

“Mother!” was all I could say. 

“Who are you?” she said. “It is not Eliza. Is it Lucinda?” 

Lucinda had been in Boston for some years. 

“No,” I replied, “it is Emma.” 

“No,” said mother; “it is not Emma, for she is not coming 
till June.” 

But when she glanced out of the window and saw Joseph 
struggling with trunks and valises, she believed. How com¬ 
fortable the warm kitchen was, and there sat father on his 
favorite comer of the lounge, with a portion of a shattered 
Bible by his side. Still I did not feel as if I had gotten home; 
that house was not familiar. So as soon as we were warmed 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


223 


and filled, while Joseph talked with father, mother and I 
cast our shawls about us and went up to Holmes’s, then 
down to Sister Tamza’s, and surprised them all around. 

It was a varied experience, that mission to Nova Scotia. 
Some features pleasant, some grievous. From the time I em¬ 
braced the latter-day work my thoughts turned to some in 
our home neighborhood whom I thought, judging from their 
past religious lives and their apparent desire to serve God 
truly, would rejoice to know that the blessings, powers, and 
privileges of the gospel, as enjoyed in the days of the apos¬ 
tles, were restored to the earth. And if the hired shepherds 
to whom they looked for instruction in the ways of right¬ 
eousness had given them the same counsel that the spiritual 
teachers of old gave; namely, “Search the scriptures,” “Try 
the spirits whether they are of God,” “Prove all things; hold 
fast that which is good,” “To the law and to the testimony: 
if they speak not according to this word, it is because there 
is no light in them”—if such had been the instruction from 
their pastor, the result might have been very different from 
what it was. But the counsel was, “Stamp it out.” 

The pastor of the Bap>tist Church lived some four miles 
distant, and having duties elsewhere, was present at the Sun¬ 
day morning meeting only for the first two weeks after our 
arrival. We attended the meetings, took part in the prayer 
meetings, held on Sunday evenings and once during the week. 
We enjoyed doing so, and others enjoyed our testimonies. 
Each meeting became more interesting and more largely at¬ 
tended. Many thought it must be that they were on the eve 
of a revival. But the minister learned of the new interest, 
and who was drawing the people out, for there were some 
there, as in all other places, who could not enjoy a truth 
from any but their own, and he forthwith came, and came 
to stay. Then he felt it his duty to visit the houses of all 
his people, and succeeded in turning their feelings against 
us, even those who only the evening before wanted to open 
their dwelling houses for preaching, since the “evangelical 
alliance” closed the churches against all except denomina¬ 
tional preachers. 

It seemed evident that at the people’s request he had 
agreed to meet Mr. Burton in a public debate. Coming from 
the deacon’s, who lived below our place, quite early one morn¬ 
ing, he stopped at father’s. When father essayed to put his 


224 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


horse away, he said, ^‘No; I can not stay ten minutes. I ran 
in to challenge Mr. Burton to a public debate concerning his 
church and faith, and to make the necessary arrangements.’^ 
But he seemed to lose a portion of his eagerness when his 
proposition was so eagerly accepted. He sat down then and 
began to talk. At dinner time father went quietly out and 
put his horse in the bam. And still they talked, and kept 
on talking till the afternoon was well spent. The result of 
the talk was that he withdrew his challenge; and when he 
could not be induced to hold to it, Mr. Burton challenged him. 
But all to no avail. 

He drove immediately to my sister Sophia’s—Mrs. L. San¬ 
ford. She had received us kindly as brother and sister, yet 
believed that we were very much astray in our religious be¬ 
lief, and did not doubt for a moment but their minister could 
show the falsity of our faith to all; for she honestly thought, 
as many another has done, that we had departed from the 
teachings of the Bible. And while in conversation with her 
pastor concerning our faith, or false doctrines as he called it, 
she said: 

“Why do you not get Mr. Burton to meet you in public, 
and compare his faith and doctrine with the Bible, and show 
the people where he is false?” 

His reply was: ‘T had intended to do so, but have been 
talking with him all day, and find he is too thin” 

“Too thin!” echoed Sophia; “that is just what the public 
should know. Why not give them the opportunity of finding 
it out for themselves?” 

After making a few other excuses Mr. Welton said: “The 
truth is, he claims to be called of God, and you can do noth¬ 
ing with him.” 

My sister was greatly surprised by these words, and said: 
“What is there bad about that? Do not our ministers claim 
to be called of God?” 

“Yes; called to the ministry, certainly, but not in the 
same way that he does.” And pleading urgent business else¬ 
where he departed, leaving Sophia more perplexed than be¬ 
fore. 

Some reasons were dawning on her mind other than what 
the minister had given, and she concluded to think and in¬ 
vestigate for herself. 

Up to that time we had been kindly received by the people; 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


226 


but immediately after, it seemed as if the very air was filled 
with false reports, and rumors of all kinds came floating to 
the ears of the people. And strange to say, it seemed as if 
there was nothing too absurd or ridiculous to be repeated 
and believed. Those who had been most noted for their piety 
drank the deepest into the spirit of persecution. But not¬ 
withstanding all that was brought to bear against the work, 
it did not deter the few who desired the truth at all hazards. 
They continued to investigate the doctrines presented, holding- 
fast to their statements, that we could not give them too 
much Bible. 

While this investigation was going on there was no time 
for dust to accumulate on their Bibles. Some thought the 
Bibles were being altogether spoiled for good, comfortable 
reading. This is the view that Tamza’s daughter Eva had 
of the matter. She had been turning the leaves of the Bible, 
or Testament, reading a little here and there, then closed and 
laid it down with apparent disgust, and went across the 
street to her aunt’s, saying as she entered the house: 

“Aunt, I wish you would loan me a Bible to learn a verse 
from for Sunday school. Our Bibles have all turned Mor¬ 
mon. I can not find anything in them now but what the 
Mormons are teaching, and I know my teacher will be vexed 
if I get any of them.” 

Not very long after the call my sister Sophia received from 
her pastor, we went according to invitation to spend a week 
with her. We had visited one day with her shortly after 
our arrival in Nova Scotia. She had seemed pleased to see 
us, yet there was a certain restraint that was not natural; a 
sort of “thus far and no farther” bearing towards us. Not 
so with the rest of the family; they had received us on free 
and easy terms. Brother Robert had made us feel at home 
at once by saying, “Now I do not want you folks to feel as 
if you had to keep your mouths shut while you are in my 
house; talk all you wish to. If we can not defend ourselves 
with the Bible in our hands, why—^well,” laughingly, “we 
are worse off than I think we are.” 

But on account of distance, and having a little family, 
Sophia had not attended any prayer meetings since our ar¬ 
rival, consequently had not heard any expressions from either 
of us. She had heard much on the other side of the ques¬ 
tion, which created a feeling of strong opposition. And now 


226 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


upon this second visit I could see that she was expecting me 
to make an attack on her religion. I had arrived a few days 
in advance of Mr. Burton and could see she was fortifying 
herself for a vigorous defense. However much I should have 
liked a quiet talk with her, I could discern her feelings suf¬ 
ficiently to see that to broach the subject of religion would 
only bring on a “war of words,” so I kept as far from it as 
possible; made myself just as free and easy as I knew how, 
and talked of the good times we used to have when children. 
We were constant companions in childhood, and often I had 
longed to see her when far from my kinsfolk. I never 
hinted that any change of views had come to me, or had 
placed a barrier between us, and gradually she became more 
free. But I was watching my opportunity. At length it 
came. 

Her husband came in one day and was repeating some 
part of a conversation he had just been having with one of 
the “Disciple” faith, and was rather amused because the man 
believed that baptism was for the remission of sins. After 
they had had a little talk about it they looked towards me, 
as if expecting I would take some part in the conversation 
also. 

I said, “It certainly is, according to the teachings of the 
Bible.” 

“Then you believe in the Campbellite doctrine, do you?” 
said Sophia. 

“That far we do; and I might add, so far as their creed 
embraces the true doctrines of the Bible, we believe it, and 
the same of all other denominations, the Catholics not ex¬ 
cepted.” 

“It must be an amalgamated mess,” said Sophia, with a 
little touch of disgust in her tone. 

“Well, as to that, it is no more amalgamated than the Bible. 
Every denomination takes into its belief some portions of 
the Bible. And as we accept the whole, we must necessarily 
have some portion of everybody’s belief.” 

“Well, I suppose you are at liberty to believe what you 
please; but you might give other people the same privilege,” 
she said a little curtly. 

I felt a lump rising in my throat, but tried to swallow it 
down, and asked in rather a husky voice, “Have I interfered 
with your religious belief?” 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


227 


“No,” she said calmly, “I did not mean you, personally; 
but you know that wherever your people go, they are trying 
to make proselytes.” 

“Sophia, do you believe the gospel of Christ should be 
preached in all the world?” 

“Certainly I do!” 

“Does the Baptist Church send missionaries out to preach 
what they believe to be the gospel?” 

“Yes, of course they do.” 

“And when those missionaries are gone forth, ought they 
to preach or keep silent?” 

“Why, preach, of course.” 

“That is just our position. And now let me say a little 
more, while we are on this subject, for we may not speak 
of it again. Suppose it were possible in this age of the world 
for the gospel to be restored to the earth again, just as it 
was eighteen hundred years ago, it would have to come just 
as it did then, would it not? that is to some one place first.” 

“Yes.” 

^‘And suppose you were living at a distance from the rest 
of the family, but where you heard it before they did, and 
that you had looked well into the matter and found it to be 
true. You had heard many speak in tongues; had heard the 
interpretation given, also seen the sick healed by the power 
of God; had been made partaker of the like gifts yourself, 
and in all had found unspeakable joy: would not you have a 
great desire to make these things known to the rest of the 
family?” 

Tears were rolling down her cheeks, and mine too, as she 
answered, “Yes; I suppose I would.” 

“Well, Sophy, it is because of just such circumstances that 
we are here. We left our little children in California without 
father or mother, that we might bring to you this message— 
this glorious truth. It is not because we are any better than 
the rest of you that we essay to teach you the truths of the 
gospel; but simply because it so happened that we were situ¬ 
ated where we heard it before you did. And now that I have 
told you what it is that we desire to communicate, I shall not 
speak of it any more unless you wish me to. I am a visitor 
at your house, and shall not make you uncomfortable by 
forcing my convictions upon you contrary to your wishes. 
But remember, if ever you would like to ask any questions. 


228 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


or talk on this subject, I shall only be too glad to give all the 
information I possess in regard to it.” 

Here I ceased speaking. She remained silent for awhile, 
still standing near, and looking into my face, thinking I 
would go on. But I had taken my position and remained 
silent. Her heart plead for more, but she had not the courage 
then to form the words. She had heard enough from Brother 
George to make her desire to learn more; still from him she 
had resented it, and had prepared to be on the defensive. 
But when I quietly withdrew (as she told me afterwards) she 
was disappointed rather than pleased because of it. And 
again, while on the defensive, she had not discovered that 
she really desired to hear what our belief was, wherein it 
differed from that of other denominations. And now was it 
possible there was not going to be anything more said unless 
she made the request? And how could she do so, after hav¬ 
ing given me to understand (as she supposed) that she did 
not wish to have the matter spoken of? She had not ex¬ 
pected to be placed in that position. As proof that I intended 
to abide by what I had said, I commenced talking of other 
matters, as though the subject of our religion had not been 
mentioned; but other subjects of conversation had lost their 
interest for her. And when night came she could not sleep 
for thinking. And next day she was quiet, and preoccupied 
in thought during the forenoon; but neither of us alluded to 
the subject that was uppermost in the mind of each. 

While her husband was taking his nooning in the house, 
she said, “Well, Lee, what are we going to do about it? I 
suppose we may as well let these people say what they have 
got to say.” 

I could but smile, as it reminded me of my own experience 
of wanting to hear without letting anybody know that I was 
interested, and said, “What we have to say will depend largely 
upon what you want to hear.” 

“Well,” said Lee, “I would like to hear where you find 
that the Bible teaches baptism for the remission of sins. 
Our Bible tells us it is the answer of a good conscience.” 

“So it is; but here is where we find the other. Mark 1: 4. 
‘John did baptize in the wilderness, and preach the baptism 
of repentance for the remission of sins.^ And Peter, on the 
day of Pentecost, as you will find in Acts 2: 38; ‘Repent, 
and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


229 


for the remission of sins.’ Also, Luke 24: 47: ‘And that 
repentance and remission of sins should be preached in his 
name among all nations, beginning at Jerusalem.’ True, the 
word baptism is not used in this last text, but it only makes 
the position more strong by using ‘remission of sins’ inter¬ 
changeably with, or instead of, baptism. Those two prin¬ 
ciples were to be preached connectively. And in the case 
of Saul, Ananias said, ‘And now why tarriest thou? arise, 
and be baptized, and wash away thy sins.’ He had already 
repented; but it seems that the water baptism had much to 
do in washing away his sins.” 

They both were surprised that they had not noticed those 
passages before. 

The hour of nooning was spent in good, earnest talk, and 
when Lee was about to go out to work again Sophia said, 
“There is a good deal of common sense about it, after all.” 

And now that the subject was fairly open, there was noth¬ 
ing else talked of. Mr. Burton came over that afternoon, 
and his conversation was like one solid gospel sermon. When 
he was not present I filled his place as best I could. Never 
before nor since have I seen anyone so hungry for the gos¬ 
pel, for knowledge concerning it and the plan of salvation, 
as she was. Poor Sophy! She had not long to live, and lived 
fast, stumbling at nothing contained in the latter-day work. 

Brother Holmes and wife and Sister Tamza and husband 
were the first fruits of our gospel work in Nova Scotia. It 
was a notable day for the people of Delhaven when Holmes 
announced at the close of a Sunday morning meeting at the 
Baptist church that there would be baptism that same after¬ 
noon in the ocean near Brother Robert Newcomb’s. The 
people knew too well who the candidates were, and that our 
gain would be their loss; a loss that would be sadly felt in 
the Baptist Church of that vicinity, and which loss every 
effort had been made to prevent; therefore a scene of the 
greatest excitement and confusion followed. Yet notwith¬ 
standing the opposition and indignation—and some real sor¬ 
row, too—felt by the people, they came one and all to witness 
the baptism, and remain to the preaching and confirma¬ 
tion service, which was held in Brother Robert Newcomb’s 
house; several were forced to remain outside the house for 
want of even standing room. Many of the hostile ones 
crowded into the room where the preacher and candidates 


230 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


were; but perfect order was kept. They were held as if spell¬ 
bound by the power of the preaching. One, a promising 
young man who was preparing for the ministry, called out 
during the baptism, “Bring along your tar and feathers,” 
but was put to shame by another who made no profession 
of religion. 

Sophia was not baptized at that time, but followed shortly 
afterwards. These baptisms, being as they were, deductions 
from the Baptist Church, stirred up the spirit of persecu¬ 
tion to a still greater degree. But none were permitted to 
molest, neither were we made afraid of tar and feathers 
that were so freely mixed up with the threats; nor of the 
running bonfire that those Christian (?) people thought 
would be so interesting that they laughed among themselves 
at the thought of it. This was the scheme: At the close 
of a prayer meeting that was to be held at Brother New¬ 
comb’s, when Mr. Burton should come out of the house, sev¬ 
eral were to be in waiting who would catch and hold him 
while another threw coal oil over him, and light it, then run 
him up and down the road. Our meeting was much disturbed 
thar evening by several making all the noise they could with 
their feet and clubs on the well curb, and also clubbing 
against the house under the windows, and yelling out with 
their voices, calling names. But when the meeting was over, 
Mr. Burton went out first alone, and when they saw him they 
fled as if for their lives and hid till we all had returned home. 
Stones were cast at him on a dark night while on the road 
alone, but all missed their mark. 

And why were we not afraid? Because we knew the Lord 
was with us and would protect us. But through it all we 
had some friends who maintained their balance of mind and 
were willing to treat us as they would any other people. 
These were not among the professors of religion. But if 
“acts speak louder than words,” their Christianity towered 
like the oak above the dwarfed trees. 

Feeling that our work was done in Delhaven, for awhile at 
least, we hastened to comply with Brother Newton Best’s 
request to visit his aged mother, who lived in the city of 
Halifax, and who desired to know more about the new faith 
embraced by her sons than could be conveyed by letter. We 
were kindly received by Brother Best’s people, and our stay 
with them made very pleasant. On a Sunday morning Mr. 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


231 


Rupert Best offered to escort us to any of the various 
churches in the city that we chose to attend. We made 
choice of the Baptist, for the sake of “auld lang syne.” As 
we threaded our way along the crowded sidewalk, where the 
nmsses of people were going in the opposite direction, it illus¬ 
trated very forcibly our position in that country, and the 
thought of arresting the attention of any with a humble gos¬ 
pel message looked hopeless indeed, except by the power of 
God. The church to which we were then going was not 
among the very wealthiest of that denomination in the city, 
therefore they were more free in their manner of worship 
and apparently more devoted. We were early and took seats 
in the body of the house, in about the third row from the 
stand. At the close of the first hymn the pastor said: 

‘T see there are several clergymen present this morning. 
Some are strangers. I make choice of this one sitting in 
front of me”—inclining his head slightly towards us—^‘to 
offer the opening prayer.” 

I did not hear those words when spoken; saw only that he 
was saying something in reference to us, or some one sitting 
very near us. 

Presently the voice of prayer sounded strikingly familiar, 
and as it became more distinct to my dull hearing, I won¬ 
dered if that was really Elder Burton’s voice, or if I was 
losing my mind. And when there was no longer room for 
doubt, I comprehended the situation, and knew from past ex¬ 
perience that that minister was going to feel very much 
dissatisfied with himself before the day was over. 

Possibly the prayer was less formal, more heartfelt than 
the congregation was accustomed to hearing, for there seemed 
to be an interest created towards us. 

At the close of the meeting the minister made his way to 
us at once, scarcely stopping to greet his people, whose hands 
were extended towards him. Being acquainted with our 
friend, Mr. Best, he first addressed himself to him, saying, 
as he shook hands, ^‘What friends are these you have with 
you this morning?” 

Mr. Best, who had not had sufficient time to give the intro¬ 
duction of his own accord, replied, ^Tt is Mr. Burton, late of 
California, son of -the Reverend William Burton, and Mrs. 
Burton.” 

Whereupon the reverend gentleman shook hands most cor- 


232 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


dially, and expressed himself as being “pleased indeed to meet 
the son of Brother William Burton,” and added, “I see you 
are following in the footsteps of your good father.” 

“Yes,” replied Mr. Burton, “I am following in the foot¬ 
steps of my father.” 

Before more could be said, our friend interposed a “God 
bless you.” 

“My father,” continued Mr. Burton, “was born and raised 
an Episcopalian. But when he heard the Baptists preach, 
and learned of their belief and teachings, he left the church 
of his father, and united with the Baptists, because he be¬ 
lieved it to be a greater light. So with me. I was once a 
member of the Baptist Church; but when I found a church, 
wherein was greater light, even the fullness of the gospel, I 
left the Baptist Church and united vdth the one wherein was 
greater light, and am therefore following in the footsteps of 
my father.” 

“Pray tell me,” said the reverend gentleman, loosing the 
clasp of his hand, “where you think you have found greater 
light than in the Baptist Church?” 

“In the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints,” 
replied Mr. Burton, “which church I now represent.” 

“I am sorry for you, my friend, that you should give any 
credence to such a delusion,” etc. 

During this short conversation quite a number of both 
men and women had moved up the aisle, and hovered about 
us as if waiting an opportunity to be made acquainted. But 
when Joseph had thoroughly introduced himself, it was cool¬ 
ing on that warm summer morning to see how soon the peo¬ 
ple dropped back and gave us plenty of room. 

From Halifax we returned to Delhaven, to the great joy of 
the little band of Saints there, as well as to the missionaries. 
Having purchased a horse and buggy with a part of the price 
of our California team, which money had been laid by for 
that purpose, and with only a few dollars in our pockets, we 
started to drive to Yarmouth, a distance of one hundred and 
eighty miles. That being my husband’s birthplace, and where 
one brother, two sisters, and several other relatives then 
lived, we were desirous that they, too, might have the privi¬ 
lege of receiving the gospel if they would. We paid our way 
when required, as long as our money lasted. It being in the 
haying season, the charge for the horse at noon was only ten 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


233 


cents, and twenty-five for night. When the money was gone, 
we prayed in reality, “Give us this day our daily bread.” 
We never asked anyone except our heavenly Father for food 
for ourselves. When we were invited to eat we ate thankfully, 
and felt that all our wants were supplied, and that the next 
meal was a long way off. But when it began to draw near to 
meal time again, a sort of solemn dread would settle over us 
until we could muster up courage enough to drive up to a 
house, tell the people we were missionaries traveling through 
the country, and were without money, and ask to stay all 
night, or for a feed for our horse. 

It being a religious class of people all through that beauti¬ 
ful, fertile country, ministers, and especially missionaries, 
were held in high esteem. The word missionary suggested to 
the mind of those religious people far-off heathen lands, con¬ 
sequently we were kindly treated by all. Sometimes an extra 
feed of oats was given us for the horse, and upon one occa¬ 
sion a dollar was put into Mr. Burton’s hand. Sometimes we 
went hungry, but it was because we did not put ourselves in 
the way of getting anything to eat. The night before we 
reached Yarmouth we went to bed supperless. I,was asked 
when first I entered the house, if we wished to have supper, 
but since it was a sort of halfway house, we had not any 
money, and it being long past their supper time, I answered 
in the negative. In a few minutes we were each treated to a 
large saucer of strawberries and cream. The good people 
evidently thought we had eaten at five o’clock when we passed 
through the township of Digby. 

While on the road, at Bridgetown, we spent one night at the 
home of a cousin of my husband by the name of Cutten— 
before she married. A younger married sister from Berwick 
chanced to be visiting with her. Though it was the first time 
those three cousins had met, they were nevertheless cousins; 
and the sisters being acquainted with Father Burton, were 
pleased to see his son; and conversation on general topics, 
spiced with California, was livelv and nleasant for an hour 
or so in the first part of the evening. When Mr. Burton went 
out to give “Brum” his feed of oats, the sisters, turning to 
each other, had a little conversation in a low tone, accom¬ 
panied with very mysterious exnressions. Then the visiting 
sister turned to me and said, “Which one of Uncle William’s 


234 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


sons is this? Is it the one that was a blacksmith when he 
was young?” 

“No; that is John,” I replied. “This one—Joseph—was a 
sea captain before we moved to California, and there he was 
a farmer, and now he is a preacher.” 

“Where,” she asked, “have you resided since you came 
from California?” 

“In lower Cornwallis, mostly.” 

These answers gave the information she was seeking, and 
turning to her sister, said, “It must be the same man.” 

In a few minutes Mr. Burton came in. As he sat down she 
said, in something of a serious tone, “Cousin Joseph, are you 
the man that we have heard such dreadful accounts of, as 
going about tearing the churches to pieces?” 

Joseph replied laughingly, “I expect I am the man you 
have reference to, but I have never tom any churches to 
pieces.” 

“I was in Aylsford last week,” continued she, “and while 

there met Mrs. -, who was a member of the Cornwallis 

Baptist Church while she lived there. Well, she had a 
great deal to say about a man lately from California—a 
Mormon—who went about tearing the churches to pieces and 
leading away all the members that he could. She had not 
been to the place herself, but had heard it from those who 
had. Now what grounds were there for such statements?” 

“Cousin Mary,” said Joseph, “suppose a Baptist minister 
came to this place and preached what he believed to be the 
gospel of Christ, preaching in private houses or a public hall, 
and people of another denomination came and heard him. 
Some became convinced that what he taught was Bible truth, 
and requested baptism at his hands, would you say that was 
tearing churches to pieces?” 

“Why, no! Certainly there would be nothing wrong in 
that.” 

“That is all that I have done. I came to this country to 
preach the gospel of Christ, hoping and praying that the 
people would believe and obey it. Some have done so. I have 
never disturbed anybody’s meeting, have never preached a 
sermon in anyone’s church. Have done nothing more than 
preach and teach the gospel as I believe it, and as the Bible 
justifies that belief.” 

“What is the gospel that you preach? Wherein does it 



BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


235 


differ from any other, that Christian people should leave 
their own church and join yours?” 

This question paved the way for a dissertation on the faith 
of the Saints, and the Spirit accompanied the gospel truths 
presented. All present were much interested. 

“Why, that is good Baptist doctrine,” said she, “but you 
seem to have a better understanding of the Scriptures than 
many others.” 

“Oh,” said the other cousin, who was quite an elderly 
woman, and of very few words, “he inherits that from his 
father; it could scarcely be otherwise than that Uncle Wil¬ 
liam would have one good preacher in the family.” 

“What salary do you get?” said the younger cousin. 

“The same that the apostles and elders got in the days of 
our Savior. They did not preach for money; neither do I.” 

“But you have got to live,” she said; “and what do you 
live on?” 

“I will tell you the same as I have told many another one. 
While we are here we live on the same that you do, and when 
elsewhere, we live on the same as they do.” 

“But it is a very uncertain way,” she said, and then added, 
“Are you stationed at any particular place?” 

“No; I preach wherever I can get a place to preach.” 

“That is just what I wanted to hear. Our church is with¬ 
out a pastor; and if you will come and preach for us, we 
will give you a good salary. Our people are nearly all well 
off. Of course you would not say anything about your be¬ 
lief in the Mormons.” 

“Do you think your people would like to hear me preach 
the restoration of the gospel, with all its primitive gifts 
and blessings? That God had spoken to a prophet in these 
last days, and called apostles, prophets, evangelists, pastors, 
and teachers, and set them in his church as he did in former 
day?” 

“Oh, nonsense, cousin; you need not preach that!” 

“Then I could not preach at all. So I think you will have 
to find some one else to take that fine salary.” 

“Well,” said our hostess, “it is bedtime now. Your father 
always wanted boiled herring, or shad, and potatoes for his 
breakfast, so I have put some to soak, for I expect you will 
like them, too,” and was gratified to know that we both were 
very fond of them. 


236 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


A very little while after our arrival in Yarmouth served 
to make known to us that there were not any among our 
relatives and former friends of that place who were pre¬ 
pared to receive the gospel, and some even refused to receive 
us. 

So after a stay of a week or ten days at Deerfield, during 
which time long and pleasant gospel talks were enjoyed with 
Mr. Burton’s brother-in-law, the Reverend James Stubbart. 
and family, we wended our way back to Delhaven in much 
the same manner as we went. But it seemed just a little 
more of a cross to do so. 

One day our courage failed when it was abouc noon, just 
before entering a small town. All the big gates were closed, 
which seemed to say, “Stay out.” Nor did the dwelling 
places look in any way inviting. Our sign of invitation was 
where a big gate would be standing open, and the town ap¬ 
peared less inviting still, so we kept on till two o’clock before 
we sighted a place where there was plenty of hay on the 
ground. The day was very warm, and since noon I had had 
a fearful headache. Our faithful horse, “Brum,” was show¬ 
ing signs of giving out, too. But for that we would not have 
stopped at all. We did not expect any dinner, but asked the 
privilege of my going into the house to rest while the horse 
was eating. There were only small wooden chairs in the 
best room, to which I was conducted, for the people were 
evidently poor in this world’s goods. Feeling so weak and 
weary, I felt as if I must lie down, even if it were on the 
floor. I spied a small canvas-covered lounge in the kitchen, 
evidently a resting place for the men folks; but it looked so 
tempting. I asked the young woman with me if I might lie 
down and rest; that my head was aching so badly I could 
scarcely sit up. She made some apologies for its being in 
the kitchen, but spread a clean cover over it and brought a 
pillow. I never shall forget the sensation of relief I felt as 
my head sank down on that cool pillow. The house was 
cool, quiet, and in order. Presently the young woman asked 
if I thought a cup of tea would help my head. Yes, I thought 
it would. When it was nearly ready she came again. 

“Perhaps you could eat a piece of bread and a boiled egg, 
seeing it has been some time since noon.” 

I thanked her most heartily, saying I had not eaten since 
early morning. 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


237 


“Nor your husband either?” said she. 

Joseph was still outside. I replied in the negative. She said 
she had not much to offer as a dinner, but I doubt if there 
was a dinner eaten Hiat day by anyone with a keener relish 
than was that good bread and butter and boiled eggs. It 
seems to me I can taste them yet. 

The mother of this young woman was an invalid, confined 
to her bed. We were invited to her room, and sat and talked 
with her awhile; and after leaving our blessing with them, 
started forth again, feeling renewed in body and spirits, and 
with a sense of gratitude that has not yet vanished away. 

On our return to Delhaven I met my sister Eliza, who had 
up to that time been elsewhere. She, too, soon became in¬ 
terested in the gospel, and in turn had to stem the tide of 
opposition, while she waited her husband’s return from sea, 
if peradventure he might accompany her in the waters of 
baptism. 

All doors being closed against us in Delhaven, it was use¬ 
less to attempt any further work there, except that of cheer¬ 
ing the little band of Saints; or I might better say, to re¬ 
joice with them, for their comfort in the Holy Ghost more 
than compensated for all the warfare without. 

Mr. Burton was very desirous of visiting the few of his 
father’s relatives who lived on the island of Cape Breton 
and deliver to them the message of the restored gospel. And 
since we at that time intended to return to California in 
the coming spring, he resolved to make the trip if possible. 
It was then the month of October. The days were clear and 
bright, but the night air was to us Californians like the breath 
from an iceberg, which produced with me a racking cough, 
disturbing the slumbers of nearly the whole household in the 
nighttime. A few evenings before leaving Delhaven, when 
one of those coughing paroxysms had passed off, my husband 
said, “I am afraid I shall have to leave you behind, if you do 
not get rid of that cough! It would never do to take you 
through.the country with such a cough as that. I fear the 
exposure to cold winds, and storms too, perhaps, and the 
change of beds, sometimes sleeping in warm blankets and 
sometimes in ice cold sheets, would make you sick.” 

Such thoughts had been trying to assert themselves to me 
before, but I would not give place to them. Now that they 
had been squarely worded, I was forced to take them into 


238 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


consideration, and the effect was very discouraging. True, I 
was with my sisters who had done, and would still do, all 
in their power to make us welcome and comfortable, and we 
had heartily appreciated all their thoughtful kindness; but 
the thought of being left behind for two or three of the 
stormy winter months, seemed too dreary to be endured. I 
felt lonesome and homesick in advance, and could scarcely 
keep the tears back. The words of Jesus to his followers 
had been living words of consolation to us during that mis¬ 
sion, because we had experienced much of what he foretold 
his disciples they would experience in bearing the gospel to 
all people, and now that my heart felt to be sinking within 
me, I reached forth my hand and took up the Bible, with a 
desire that I might find some words that would seem to be 
especially for this occasion. And opening it without making 
choice, the first words my eyes rested on were these: “Let 
not your hearts be troubled,” and in connection with this 
were the words, “I will not leave you comfortless.” Were 
they brought forcibly to my mind? or did I hear them? It 
does not matter. They gave the comforting assurance that 
my little trouble was known to the Father, and that I had 
his word that all would be well. 

That night, while kneeling before the bed in silent prayer, 
I told the Lord all about it; told him that I knew not by the 
words I had received whether I was to go or to stay; that 
it was my desire to go, and asked the Lord to heal me that 
night if it was pleasing to him that I should still accompany 
my husband in his gospel work; but if I was not healed I 
should, with those words of promise, endeavor to stay cheer¬ 
fully. I went to bed and to sleep. None were disturbed by 
any coughing that night nor afterwards. It was a great 
testimony to Sophia, who the night before had been like a 
restless spirit, wandering about the house in white robes at 
midnight, mixing and bringing to me butter and sugar, and 
when that failed to produce the desired effect, sweet cream 
and molasses. But the cough would not yield to either of 
them. A testimony that the words of scripture, “Is any 
among you afflicted? let him pray,” were as truly recognized 
by the Lord as, “Is any sick among you? let him call for the 
elders.” 

With light and thankful hearts we now started forth on a 
journey that we knew little about, further than a leading of 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


239 


the mind in that direction. When leaving Hantsport, where 
we had remained a day or so among our many relatives, a 
friend of Mr. Burton’s handed him a letter of introduction 
to his friend who resided in the village of Ashdale, where 
we desired to remain over Sunday. He said his friend was 
a very liberal-minded man, and he was sure he would enjoy 
a conversation with Mr. Burton, and having considerable in¬ 
fluence in the place, and not being bound himself by any 
church creed, would doubtless assist in securing the hall for 
holding preaching services on Sunday. 

During the few days intervening between our starting 
from Delhaven and the Saturday of which I write, the 
weather had changed materially. The day dawned cold and 
threatening, and as it advanced it became colder and colder, 
and by the time we reached the house of our friend’s friend 
it had attained to a freezing point, and the cool wind was 
driving the fine, round snow in our faces unmercifully. The 
few minutes I sat in the buggy shivering from head to foot 
seemed a very long time, while Mr. Burton talked with this 
“liberal-minded man,” who, because of the name “Mormon” 
which our friend had inserted in the note, refused point 
blank to have us in the house; and Adam-like, endeavored at 
first to make his wife the excuse, saying, “My wife is a 
Methodist and very respectable, and she would not have 
Mormons in the house,” and then added, “nor I would not 
either.” 

“Can you tell me of anyone who would be likely to give 
us shelter from this storm?” said Mr. Burton. Whereupon 
we were directed to a farmhouse, almost opposite, but sit¬ 
ting on a high, rolling hill. So we faced the storm a little 
farther, entered through the gate on the good man’s premises, 
at the foot of the hill, and following the beaten track, it took 
us into the back yard close to the house. Strangers do not 
travel through inland country villages every day. Our bright- 
colored lap robe had arrested the notice of these people on the 
hill, and when they saw us leave the house and wend our way 
up the hill, they seemed to understand the situation. The 
good man of the house (I have forgotten the name, but hope 
the angels have recorded it in their book of remembrance) 
was in waiting at the back door, and before we had hardly 
come to a standstill, he came quickly forward to unharness 
the horse, saying to Mr. Burton: 


240 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


“Take your wife into the house out of this storm, and we 
will attend to your horse.’’ 

“Perhaps you had better not unharness till you learn who 
we are,” said Mr. Burton. 

“It does not make any difference,” he replied, “you are 
cold, and perhaps hungry; I saw you turned away from that 
house down yonder, but you won’t be turned away from here!” 

I think those only who have been in like circumstances can 
realize how we appreciated that hearty hospitality that will 
outweigh many long prayers in the day of reckoning. We 
remained their guests for several days, and were treated 
most kindly. It was he who interceded in getting the hall 
for preaching services—^the liberal-minded man being the 
strongest opposer. But when the latter saw that other re¬ 
spectable people were not afraid of having their respecta¬ 
bility damaged by receiving us, and that it was accounted 
by the majority of the people to be more to his discredit than 
to his credit to turn from his door a stranger who claimed 
to be a preacher of the gospel, he sought to be friendly. 
For notwithstanding the minister’s warning to the people, 
during his Sunday morning service,—^the news that there 
was a Mormon preacher in the village having been well cir¬ 
culated, there being an entertainment in the hall Saturday 
evening,—^the meeting in the afternoon was well attended, 
and the Spirit of inspiration and revelation was present in 
an unusual degree while Elder Burton discoursed from the 
twenty-fourth of Matthew, continuing till the twilight 
deepened. 

On the following Monday our host drove to Rawdon, and 
invited Mr. Burton to go with him, which invitation he gladly 
accepted, while I spent the day with the good woman of the 
house in her cozy back room. It was very pleasant and com¬ 
fortable in that small back room, with its warm fire and 
bright rugs. Still a gloom seemed to be settling over me. 
Since they of the household did not wish to interest them¬ 
selves in the gospel, I felt that we were intruding upon their 
hospitality to remain, and was anxious to get off again on 
our journey; and yet a forlorn sort of dread accompanied the 
thoughts of that journey. True, this was an early storm, 
and there would be more fine weather soon. Still there was 
a fear of the winter overtaking and detaining us on the island 
until spring. Altogether I felt dreary, and laying aside my 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


241 


knitting, went to my room to seek relief in prayer. It was 
only momentary, however. In a few minutes it returned 
again, and I retired for prayer a second time. The answer 
was that we were not to go forth on the intended journey, 
if so all that we feared would come upon us, but to remain 
in that place, and the Lord would build us up. 

Joseph received a testimony the same day while in Raw- 
don, only five miles from Ashdale, that his work for the 
present was in that vicinity, and the Lord would open the 
way before him. Consequently the first fine day found us 
wending our way to South Rawdon. 

Seeing a young man at work near the road, Mr. Burton 
called to him, saying, “Young man, can you tell me where I 
could get a place to hold a meeting this evening?” 

“Yes,” said the young man (Walter Haley), “I think you 
can have a meeting right here in our house.” 

Being near the house, he went in to ascertain, and soon 
returned followed by his mother, who, though about sixty- 
five, was hale and hearty, generous in form and in disposition. 
She not only willingly consented, but invited us to come into 
the house and remain till evening. I accepted the invitation, 
but Mr. Burton drove around the neighborhood giving notice. 

From thence the work was started in Rawdon, Hillsdale, 
and Ardoise. We held meetings in good Mrs. Haley’s house, 
and had the privilege of making our home there whenever we 
chose to do so; and we chose to quite often. The dear 
old lady was like a mother to us. May her reward be glorious. 
Her husband and sons, too, were always kind. None of the 
household obeyed the gospel though, except one married son; 
yet all contended for it whenever present when it was as¬ 
sailed. 

There was quite an interest awakened in Rawdon before 
the snowstorm of the season set in. When it came it, too, 
found us on the road. It was not a cold, driving storm but 
the air was dense with the falling snow. We knew we were 
then taking our last buggy ride for that season, and made 
an extra effort to get to Mr. Haley’s, because of the big bam 
in which to store the buggy for the winter. What now should 
we do? 


CHAPTER 13 


W E WERE snowed in for a day or two, during which 
we had ample time to consider our embarrassing situ-" 
ation and ask the Father to open the way before us. Walter 
knew where there was a sleigh that could be bought for six 
dollars; but we had only two. Joseph remarked thus: 

‘T guess the Lrord will have to help us out, for I don’t see 
that we can help ourselves.” 

When the snow had ceased to fall and the roads were 
broken, Walter went to the post office for our mail. Up to 
this time we had not received money through the mail, so 
when Joseph opened Brother Hiram Holt’s letter and found 
a four-dollar bill folded within, it seemed indeed to be an 
answer to prayer, being just the amount we needed, and was 
to us another manifestation of the Father’s care for us. 
On the morrow the sleigh was bought and we were again 
set free. We spent the greater part of the winter in Raw- 
don and vicinity; and there was scarcely a day that we were 
not in the sleigh, going from place to place, talking, singing, 
preaching, and persuading from the Scriptures; and occa¬ 
sionally baptizing, and rejoicing with the baptized believers 
in their new joy. It is pleasant to remember the kindness of 
that people, some also who were not of our faith. But 
“Brum” knew where the warmest barn and the most oats 
were to be had. It never failed to put him to his best speed 
when taken from a cold barn in winter time to say, “Now 
Brum, we are going to Brother Dimock’s. Scamper along.” 
And I, too was partial to our cozy upstairs room, where in 
winter it was made comfortable by the warm breath from the 
stovepipe, and in summer the fragrance of roses and sweet- 
brier came floating in at the window, from which could be 
seen green fields, wooded land, and the pasture that was 
made almost white with wild strawberry blossoms. And 
better than these was the cheery face of Sister Dimock, and 
Brother Dimock too, that greeted us at all times. It made 
no difference whether we came in the dead of night or the 
meridian of day; whether she was up to her elbows in the 
suds and the dinner cleared away. It was the same hearty 
welcome always. I fear we imposed upon their good nature 
sometimes; but the Lord has blessed them for their kind 
endurance and labor of love, and will continue to bless them. 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


243 


I think I will here rehearse a little experience I had that 
winter in regard to tithing. It may be beneficial to some, 
and if they go and do likewise they may be saved much per¬ 
plexity and many of those adverse circumstances that we 
often consider ourselves the victims of, and are wont to say, 
“over which we have no control.’^ True, when fairly en¬ 
tangled in their meshes, we are powerless to control, unless 
by looking carefully back to find the cause, for I believe in 
very many instances people, especially Saints, are the authors 
of their own circumstances. 

For several years previous to our going to Nova Scotia I 
had paid a tithe of all my personal income that I realized 
from various agencies, eggs, etc., or I might better say I 
had reserved it; but from lack of a proper knowledge, had 
often acted as my own bishop, and had given it where I chose 
in the work. But after starting for Nova Scotia I neither 
paid nor reserved any. I had taken a number of “dress cut¬ 
ting systems” with me, had sold some, and done some dress¬ 
making, and some money had been given me. But because of 
being self-sustaining—for though on a mission it was vol¬ 
untary on our part, and seemed too much like a home visit to 
call upon the bishop to defray expenses; and what with per¬ 
sonal expenses, and the wear and tear of horseshoes and 
wheel tires, all had been used as fast as obtained—I had 
about persuaded myself that under those circumstances tith¬ 
ing was not required of me. After awhile my income ceased. 
In consequence we were out of money too long to be pleasant. 
I tried hard to earn some, but could neither make a sale nor 
get sewing to do to earn money for it. Of course our small 
needs kept daily accumulating and were becoming embarrass¬ 
ing. My asking the Lord to supply our needs did not pre¬ 
vail as at some other times. So I looked carefully back to 
see what I had done or left undone that was hindering our 
prayers. I had had qualms of conscience at times about this 
tithing matter, but had endeavored to justify myself by 
saying I had nothing to pay. 

But now I looked squarely at the matter, and read care¬ 
fully the then late instructions from the bishop, but could 
not find where anyone was exempted who was earning money. 
And the more I thought about it the more I became con¬ 
vinced that that was the cause of the trouble, or of my not 
being blessed in receiving. I then counted up all that I had 


244 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


received during the time I had not been paying the tenth, 
and found the tithes amounted to five donars, and resolved 
to pay it as soon as I could. I said to my husband, “If ever 
I get another five dollars I will pay that tithing, even though 
I should never get another dollar.” 

There was a lady who still owed me for a “system,” but 
she did not expect to be able to pay for several months. In 
a day or two after I had made that resolution we were pass¬ 
ing the house where this lady was, when she hailed us, and 
handed me a five-dollar bill,—the money for the “system,”— 
saying it had come to her very unexpectedly, and when she 
saw us, thought she would pay it at once before she was 
tempted to use it for something else. It seemed marvelous 
to me that just that amount should be put in my possession 
so soon. Was it to test my integrity? How I did wish the 
sum had been a few dollars more, so I could pay the tithing 
and still get a few articles that were so very necessary. 
My shoes were badly broken, we needed stamps and en¬ 
velopes, I was out of drafting paper, and “Brum” needed 
shoes, too. All these things clamored for a portion of that 
money, till I was half tempted to make the purchases, and 
pay the tithing with the next five dollars. Money always 
does take away the generous promptings of one’s feelings 
when they have none. I was without my husband’s counsel 
in those little matters; he preferred to let me act according 
to the dictates of my own conscience. I soon put the temp¬ 
tation from me, however. I had voiced my resolution, and 
the Lord had put it in my power to act upon it, so the money 
must go. Therefore, as soon as we reached our destination, 
I wrote a note to Brother Blakeslee, borrowed an envelope, 
and had a stamp given to accompany it, inclosed the five 
dollars, and sent it to him for tithing. I knew the Lord was 
pleased with that act, just as well as if he had told me so in 
words. 

The spell was broken. In a few days I obtained a few dol¬ 
lars more. And when Brother Livingston’s letter came with 
a twenty-dollar gold piece inclosed, it seemed to say, “Four¬ 
fold and more.” Whether tithing was required of me or not, 
it was a great deal the best to pay it, and I took care after 
that to keep it paid. 

When we left home it was with the intention of returning 
in one year. But as the year began to draw to a close we 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


246 


both felt that our work in Nova Scotia was not done, and 
with the consent of our children—notwithstanding their dis¬ 
appointment—^to stay another year if we felt it our duty, we 
concluded to do so, and forthwith entered into new places, 
sowing the gospel seed, not yet knowing what or when the 
harvest will be. 

Early in the month of September, 1883, we left Rawdon on 
our anticipated trip to Cape Breton, going by way of Truro, 
Parrsboro, and Amherst. This course of travel took us 
around the Basin of Minas, making our journey much longer 
than the more direct route. But we had several reasons for 
doing so. We had messages from relatives in California 
to their parents in Amherst which we promised to deliver in 
person, if possible. Again, we desired to drive through Ons¬ 
low, the birthplace of my husband’s mother. And at last, but 
not least, to visit my youngest sister, Ida, and her husband, 
J. W. Layton, who then lived in Parrsboro, and whom we 
had not yet met except on a flying .visit of one half day, 
while on a steamboat excursion to that place from Hants- 
port. They, too, must hear the gospel. 

It was a beautiful drive around the Basin of Minas. One 
day especially has ever lingered as a bright spot in memory, 
the one during which we drove through Maitland and the 
vicinity of Five Islands; these places being endowed with an 
unusual share of natural beauty. If memory serves me 
rightly, it was at the close of this same day, as the sun was 
nearing the horizon, that we began to look for a place where 
we thought we would like to stay all night. The money we 
had was a very limited amount for so long a journey, con¬ 
sequently we could not afford to put up at a hotel, and had 
driven through the town, feeling that a place would be pre¬ 
pared for us. Passing one after another, we at length saw 
a good-looking new house on something of a hill, that we 
were discussing; and as we came about opposite to it, a 
damsel came out and called “supper” to the men who were 
at work on the opposite side of the road. “She is calling to 
supper,” said I, “hadn’t we better go in?” 

“No-o,” said Joseph, as if half undecided at first, then 
added more decidedly, “That is not the place. The gate is 
shut, and there is not much of a barn.” 

“You are going to take our old sign,” I said, “where there 
is a gate open and a good barn.” 


246 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


“Yes,” he replied, “and more, where we see the barn 
door is open as well as the gate, and a man standing ready 
to take our horse, will be the place for us to stop. Come 
Brum,” he said, gathering up the lines and causing our steed 
to quicken his pace. He was trotting off quite lively down a 
hill, immediately at the foot of which was a strip of hedge 
fence, inclosing a young orchard. The house and barn being 
back of the orchard, were hidden from view—as also the 
open gate at the end of a lane leading into the yard-—until 
almost immediately opposite to it. I chanced to see the 
situation first, and said, “Here is your place!” 

“So it is!” said Joseph, and at the same time drew the line 
just in time to “fetch in” through the gate without losing 
headway. And there, as surely as I write these words, was 
a real farmer’s barn, in which was an abundance of new hay. 
The doors to the barn floor were wide open, a man was stand¬ 
ing, and continued to stand waiting for us, and was also look¬ 
ing towards us as we came in towards him. He had placed 
himself just where one would stop to unharness; and when we 
were opposite to him, he stepped up to the horse as naturally 
as if he had been expecting us. Mr. Burton informed him 
that he was a missionary on his way to Parrsboro, and would 
like to stay all night with him if he could keep us. 

“Yes,” he said, “we will keep you willingly. I think I 
must have been waiting for you. My work was all done in 
the barn, still I felt strongly impressed that there was some¬ 
thing else for me to do before shutting the doors; and while 
I stood trying to think what it was, I saw you drive into the 
lane, then I knew it was to put your horse away.” 

Had this taken place in Bible times, would it not be said 
that the Lord detained him from closing the doors because 
he had made known to his servant that those doors should be 
open to him? We believed then, and still believe that there 
was, as Brother Luff says, a divinity in it. This man’s name 
was Fleming Corbet. He said Mrs. Corbet was at a neigh¬ 
bor’s, but would be back soon, and for me to go into the house 
and rest till she came. How clean and nice everything was! 
And I was really glad to have a half hour’s rest all by my¬ 
self, since I felt too tired to speak to anyone. We had had 
a long drive that day, and every nerve of my flesh seemed to 
quiver from the jarring of the buggy. 

While we were eating the good supper prepared for us— 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


247 


they had eaten theirs at five o^clock—word was sent to his 
father’s house, which was quite near, that they had guests, 
a missionary and his wife from California, and for the folks 
to come in and spend the evening. They also' had a lady 
visitor from Truro, and soon all came in. There was no em¬ 
barrassment, as there sometimes is with strangers. From 
the time they entered the house conversation fiowed freely, 
especially with the men folks. While they were talking as 
lively as old friends, one of the ladies turned to me and said, 

^‘Your husband says he is a Latter Day Saint. It must be 
some new religion. I have never heard of them. Is it like 
the Salvation Army?” 

“No,” I replied, “it is not at all like them. It is simply the 
faith of the New Testament in every particular.” 

And then I learned that they had never heard of our peo¬ 
ple, neither of there being a prophet in these last days, nor 
of the name of Mormon—and it must not be thought that 
they were grossly ignorant, except on that one subject. The 
lady who talked with me was refined in manner, and her con¬ 
versation bespoke a fair school education. I said, “Perhaps 
you would all like to hear somewhat of our faith, and since 
there is much to be said, and my husband could give you a 
better understanding of it than I, if you desire I will ask him 
to explain it to you,” to which all the ladies agreed. And 
calling my husband’s attention, made known their wish to 
hear of our faith. All present expressed the same desire. He 
entered at once upon the explanation, and continued for three 
hours, with the exception of a few words of inquiry now and 
then by the company. They all were much interested, as well 
as astonished, that such wonderful events as the gifts of the 
gospel were taking place on the earth. The old gentleman 
declared that talk to have been the best sermon he ever heard, 
and he thought the longest one. They expressed a great de¬ 
sire to hear more, and we were sorry it was not practicable 
to visit them again. 

Next evening we arrived at Ida’s, where we remained about 
two weeks. Mr. Burton held meetings in Parrsboro several 
evenings. Some of those days were spent in picking and 
eating blueberries, and all of them in real enjoyment. Both 
Ida and her husband listened to the doctrine from the first, 
and as may be expected, were baptized before we left; for 
which cause we went on our way rejoicing indeed; and also 


248 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


because Brother Layton was a blacksmith and had done a 
good job of iron work on our buggy, shod our horse all around, 
and added to the contents of our slender purse. 

One day^s drive, including a tow across a rapidly running 
river, on a small scow—a ride that “Brum” did not enjoy 
a bit—^brought us to Amherst. Here we met just one who 
was hungering for the gospel but knew it not. She came to 
see us while we were visiting for a day at Cousin William 
Cutten’s, for her friend, Mrs. Greenes sake, who lived in Cali¬ 
fornia. She had learned from her friend that we were Lat¬ 
ter Day Saints and somewhat peculiar in our belief, conse¬ 
quently it, with the reasons for so believing, soon became the 
theme of conversation between us two. And from the first 
she was very much interested in what I had to say. We de¬ 
voted most of the day to each other in one of the best gospel 
talks I think I ever had. Nor did it seem to her like our 
first meeting. She had had a very strange dream shortly be¬ 
fore, that had left a vivid impression on her mind, in the 
which two strangers, a man and a woman, were prominent 
features. They came to her—the man carrying a small va¬ 
lise—when she was in great distress; had been wounded al¬ 
most to death. The woman had ministered words of com¬ 
fort, and bathed her wounds in clear cold water, which had 
revived and strengthened her. And when she had opened 
her eyes, the woman assisted in raising her up, saying, “What 
are you doing here, among the tombs?” And in answer to 
her question of Who are you, and whither going? the woman 
said, “We are strangers traveling through the country, and 
came a long way out of our way to see you.” 

We both reminded her so forcibly of the two she saw in 
her dream, that she looked upon us as being the same, and 
fairlv started when in answer to her question, “Were you in¬ 
tending to remain in Amherst and hold meetings?” I said, 
“No; we are traveling through the country on our way to 
Cape Breton, and have come a long way out of our wav to 
come here to Amherst.” The day was altogether too short 
for the abundance we had to say. And when she, Mrs. Quigley, 
learned of our intention to remain in the vicinitv of Amherst 
over Sundav, she at once extended her invitation for us to 
go home with her after the morning meeting. Our chief 
lodging place was at a Mr. RockwelPs, a mile or two out of 
town. 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


249 


On Sunday morning we drove into town, left our team at 
the stables, and walked to meeting, intending to return to 
Mr. Rockwell’s in the evening and start off on our journey 
again Monday morning. But so great was the interest mani¬ 
fested by this new-found friend and her household in the 
latter-day work, and the desire on her part to make herself 
acquainted with the contents of the Book of Mormon and 
Doctrine and Covenants, that by urgent request by both Mr. 
and Mrs. Quigley, supplemented by their two very interesting 
children, that our stay with them was prolonged till Wednes¬ 
day morning. Neither time nor distance can obliterate from 
our minds the brightness of that visit. It was very refresh¬ 
ing in the midst of that experience of gospel warfare to find 
some who were of cultivated minds, influential in the church 
to which they belonged, who did not antagonize additional 
Bible truths. In a word, who were Christian not in word 
only, but in heart. 

^‘The friends that most cheer me on life’s rugged road 
Are the friends of my Master—the children of God.” 

That long, tedious journey would have seemed longer, and 
been much more tedious, were it not that we, like those of 
old while journeying to Emmaus, beguiled the time and 
distance by talking of the things which had just taken place. 

Mrs. Quigley was not baptized at that time, but has been 
since, and her daughter also. May God bless them and their 
household in all their efforts for good and the furtherance 
of truth and righteousness. 

I have nothing at hand by which to refresh memory in re¬ 
gard to the number of days we were journeying from Am¬ 
herst to the straits of Canso; but it seems to have been about 
one week, having remained over Sunday at the house of a 
relative of mine near Pictou. We had been favored with good 
weather; but the two days before reaching the straits were 
cold and windy, with a dark, lowering sky, threatening to 
empty the contents of its heavy, black clouds upon our de¬ 
fenseless heads. We feared and dreaded a prolonged storm, 
such as those northeast coasts abound in as the winter months 
draw near; for October had again overtaken us—disagreeable 
enough when one has a home of his own, but would be far 
more so to strangers without money. And as these unpleasant 
features loomed up before us, I for one lifted my heart to God 


250 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


in prayer to avert the storm, that it come not upon us in that 
dismal place. Our money was not all gone, but was so far 
spent that we had been taking our chances, so to speak, for 
meals. Fortunately for us, people in those thinly settled re¬ 
gions are hospitable, and share what they have with a 
stranger. 

It was all a matter of uncertainty to us about how we 
were to cross the straits of Canso till we got to the crossing. 
The people of whom we inquired did not seem to know much 
about it. And when one remembers that many of the people in 
those parts of the country live their lives out without going ten 
miles from home, it is not so much to be wondered at. But 
we knew of one at least who had made many trips to Cape 
Breton and back with a team years agone, so there was some 
way of crossing. We expected it would be in a scow or sail¬ 
boat. And oh, what a relief it was to know that we had ar¬ 
rived on the day the steam ferry crossed, which boat only ran 
twice a week. Another manifestation of our Father’s love 
and care in thus bringing it about. The wind had gotten up 
a bad sea, and I watched the sailboat coming from the other 
side; a distance of three miles, and thought I would not en¬ 
joy such a trip. 

Five tedious hours were passed in a cold, dreary, empty 
waiting room. Perhaps I ought not to say “dreary,” because 
it was clean and the floor painted; but most any large room 
is dreary in Nova Scotia during the month of October with¬ 
out a fire. I walked the floor most of the time to keep my¬ 
self warm; and Joseph walked the platform, where he could 
keep an eye on the horse. At length the steamer was seen 
making her way down the straits—from Sydney, I think. 

The twilight had deepened to dusk when we arrived on the 
Cape Breton side. The wind had gone down with the sun, 
that had struggled through the black clouds, rifting them 
asunder before it reached the western horizon; and as the 
evening came on, the sky became clear, and the stars began 
to twinkle. As we again seated ourselves in our buggy, after 
landing on the island, we were so happy over our good for¬ 
tune we felt as if our trouble was all over. Then came the 
question. Where are we aiming for, and what are we going 
to do with ourselves for the night? Dwelling places seemed 
to be scarce. We laughed outright at our ludicrous, forlorn 
situation; but there was nothing else for us to do. but drive 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


251 


on. Mr. Burton had made some inquiry, while on the boat, 
and was told that there was a small town about three miles 
along, on the road around the island. And when it seemed to 
us that we had driven three miles, we met a pedestrian, from 
whom we learned that the town was still another mile on. It 
was cheering to know there was a little piece of the living 
world so near; but would ft benefit us any? 

reckon somebody will have to keep us,” said Mr. Burton. 

“How much money have we now?” The purse was brought 
forth, revealing two or three lonesome “quarters.” “That will 
be enough to pay for a bed at the hotel, and for the horse, 
and buy oats enough for the next two days, will it not?” 

“Yes,” said Joseph, “and ten cents over.” 

“Then let us drive up to a hotel and order a room; we can 
live without supper or breakfast. They at the hotel will 
never know but what we have been to supper, for it is near 
bedtime.” This was agreed to, and we made the remaining 
distance with a more self-satisfied feeling, because of having 
a purpose in view, besides being relieved of the suspense and 
anxiety that came with the nightfall. 

The large lamps on each side of the front door indicated 
the location of the hotel, and we reined up to the door with 
as much purpose as if money was no object. We were con¬ 
ducted to an upstairs room, which was considered very com¬ 
fortable, having a stovepipe through it. I was fairly trem¬ 
bling with cold, and how hard it was for me, only having 
had a mere lunch for dinner, to tell the landlady that we did 
not require supper. I soon went to bed to get warm while 
Mr. Burton went downstairs to talk with the people where the 
fire was. But I did not get warm; I shivered for about an hour 
then went to sleep and forgot that I was cold and hungry too. 
But I felt just as well in the morning, and more courageous to 
do without breakfast than I was to do without supper. We had 
intended to get away before breakfast was ready, but had 
slept too long; the breakfast bell rang before Mr. Burton had 
completed preparations for our early start. When the other 
lodgers went in to breakfast, I took up a paper, and looked 
over its contents while waiting for Joseph to drive around to 
the door. The lady of the house soon came in to know if I 
had heard the bell. I made answer that I heard it, but did 
not intend to go out to breakfast that morning. 

Presently she came in again and said, “Did I understand 


252 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


you to say that you were not going to have breakfast? or are 
you waiting for your husband to come in?” 

“You understood me correctly. I am just waiting for my 
husband to drive around to the door. We are going away 
early this morning.” 

She looked at me a moment then went out, and another 
lady came in, who seemed to be e'qual in authority, and she 
put about the same questions to me, and received about the 
same answers, after which she said, “Are you well?” 

“Perfectly well, thank you; but we have not the money to 
pay for our breakfast. My husband is a missionary. We 
are on our way to Margaree from Cornwallis, and have been 
on the road longer than we expected, and our money is well- 
nigh exhausted. We only have sufficient to pay for our room 
and our horse, and provide him with oats for the rest of the 
journey.” 

“If you really have not any money,” she said, looking at me 
as if she was a little afraid it was only a trumped-up storj% 
“you shall not go away hungry, we will give you and your 
husband breakfast.” 

I thanked her heartily, saying we would gladly accept such 
a kindness. 

It seems that while the two were talking it over, some one 
came in from the barn and said that the stranger was going 
away without breakfast because he had no money; that he 
had bought a bushel of oats for his horse, and only had ten 
cents left; and that he was a minister. And when by a little 
questioning they learned we had not eaten the night before, 
and had only a very little dinner, they made an extra plate 
of toast, and boiled three eggs apiece—and I think they were 
the largest hen’s eggs I ever saw. I do not think it is neces¬ 
sary for me to try to tell how comfortable and happy that 
breakfast made us feel. The other lodgers had left the table 
before we came, so we had a social talk with the two women 
and an elderly gentleman, who seemed to be their father, 
while we partook of their bounties. We left them with a 
fervent “God bless and reward you for the kindness of this 
morning!” 

The morning was clear and fine, and the sun shone bright 
and warm. Shipping of all rigs and sizes that had been in 
the nooks and harbors along the straits on both sides, for a 
few days, seeking shelter from the windstorm, now shook 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


253 


their sails to the breeze and started out on the waters again, 
presenting a very cheerful appearance; each one seemed to 
say, “I have had a good breakfast and feel so thankful and 
happy;” and we were in a mood to enjoy it all. Our road 
for that day lay around the island, with the ocean on one 
side, and the rough, rugged, hilly, rocky island on the other. 
The inhabitants were mostly French, and very poor, but kind 
and hospitable. The men had nearly all deserted the island 
and gone to the Eastern States, and the women folks were 
just finishing their potato digging, most of which was done 
by hand. They were down on their hands and knees, scratch¬ 
ing away the dirt like badgers. Shoes must have been a 
luxury almost unknown, as I did not see anyone wearing any 
all through that French settlement. We were entertained 
for the night by French people. They were very kind, could 
talk English, and one of the young women was very sociable 
and pleasant. Flour being a luxury that the whole family did 
not indulge in, they evidently thought it a mark of respect to 
have us make a whole supper of hot biscuits—not exactly like 
some hot biscuits I have eaten in California, but they were 
made of flour all the same. These and butter, with two bowls 
of black tea sweetened generously with molasses, were put on 
a small table in a remote corner, where we ate by ourselves. 
I saw them prepare “hugrumbuff” for their own suppers, 
which was piled up on a platter to a complete mound, and 
smoothed over, two tablespoons stuck in each end, and placed 
in the center of a small table, where all could reach it with¬ 
out any trouble, besides this, there were four bowls of milk 
placed on the table, and four women folks sat down to their 
suppers. All ate from the one dish, taking part of a spoonful 
and dipping it in the milk like mush. How I wanted some; 
would gladly have given the biscuits in exchange. But we 
had eaten first. 

The following day being the last day of our journey, took us 
away from the seacoast, over some of the hilly parts of the 
island, and through ravines and across rivers on such rickety 
old bridges we scarcely ventured to breathe hard for fear of 
adding a little too much weight for safety; and it required 
good navigating to keep the wheels from dropping between 
the planks which were laid lengthways. The day was over¬ 
cast and threatening, but the air was still. As the afternoon 
waned, we realized that we could not reach Margaree before 


254 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


dark. ^‘Brum” was tired and could not travel as fast as in 
the morning. The outlook was not cheering. There was no 
moon, and the sky was cloudy, but we hoped for the best, while 
fearing more bridges. Just before night set in we met a 
man and stopped to inquire. He said there were no more 
bridges, nor houses either, till we reached Margaree; that we 
had five miles to go yet, and the road was good. But he did 
not tell us that there was a broad, swiftly flowing river run¬ 
ning parallel with it for a mile or so, nor that the road was 
fenced on either side and ditched too. 

Presently every ray of daylight disappeared, swallowed up 
in the gloom. Oh, how densely dark it was! Added to the 
cloudy sky was a thick fog that rolled in from the ocean, 
not far distant. We could not see the light-colored stripes 
in our lap robe, much less the horse. I do not remember to 
have ever been out in such a dark night. When we had gone 
about half the distance the rain commenced to descend in 
sweeping torrents, right in our faces. Presently we heard the 
rush and roar of a river above that of the rain. It kept get¬ 
ting nearer and nearer, until in seemed to be immediately in 
front of us. We knew we were going towards the coast again, 
and wondered if we had gone astray in the darkness, and were 
going right into the ocean. There was nothing for us to do 
but keep on going as long as there was a road. The situation 
was terrifying! Would we ever see daylight again? The 
road was built up in the center, and as the blinding rain 
caused the horse to sway a little from the beaten track, and 
the buggy would cant to one side, we did not know but the 
next step would plunge us into the seething waters; for we 
had discerned, ere long, that the river was running parallel 
with the road. How long and tedious that three hours’ drive 
in utter darkness! I wondered if there was anyone on the 
island who would care enough about hearing the gospel to 
compensate for all we were enduring to take it to them. 

Gradually the rush and roar of the river grew fainter. We 
knew by that that it was getting farther away, and breathed 
easier, and that if we were spared from a collision with some 
other belated team we would probably get to our destination 
sometime. It seemed to me that it must be nearly midnight, 
and we began to entertain grave fears lest the inhabitants of 
Margaree had put out lights and gone to bed, and we had 
passed through the town without knowing it, when we saw a 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


255 


light in the distance. What new life and hope a ray of light 
produces to benighted eyes, as well as souls. The force of the 
rain was over, and the fog was lifting a little. We had sent 
a message on ahead, and the people were daily expecting us, 
so we were soon made comfortable, and the terrors of the past 
two hours and more vanished like a dream. We had arrived 
in good time too, for the morning revealed an abundance of 
snow in the mountains and on some of the lowlands. 

Our stay must necessarily be short, for winter came early 
on that island, and it usually came to stay. It set in in good 
earnest the year before on the fifth of October, the day we 
arrived. It was not unusual for the people to have to dig 
their way out of the snow in the morning when they opened 
the door. So while Joseph made every exertion to impart all 
the gospel light he could in the allotted time, I bent my 
energies to earn means to defray expenses back to Rawdon, 
and the Lord blessed my efforts. And he blessed the gospel 
efforts, too, at least the speaker in presenting it. I always 
remembered those sermons on Cape Breton as being the most 
powerful of Elder Burton^s preaching, and yet none obeyed 
the message brought to them. Two of Mr. Burton’s cousins 
made the statement that they would obey it if we were going 
to remain a length of time, or if they could hope to be visited 
by elders occasionally; but knowing what persecution they 
would have to endure in their isolated condition, they had 
not the courage to breast the opposition single-handed. For 
while many were much interested, those whose iron heel 
could be felt by the poor were waging war against it. 

Before leaving the island we heard a strong testimony to 
the truth of the restored gospel related by an elderly man 
who manifested a deep interest in our faith and doctrine. It 
was as follows: 

“When I was a young man I was doing some teaming be¬ 
tween here and the village of - (another seaport), and 

upon this occasion was driving homeward in the night, not¬ 
withstanding it was a long, lonely drive. It was getting 
along towards midnight when I overtook an old man and 
asked him to get in and ride. He did so. I inquired if he 
had come from the village back yonder, and if he had heard 
the new preacher. Then he commenced to talk. He said 
all the churches were wrong, and showed by the Scriptures 
where they were wrong, and expounded the Scripture in a 


256 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


manner that I had never heard before. He seemed perfectly 
familiar with it all; and he also said that the same gospel that 
was preached in the days of the apostles would soon^ be 
preached on the earth again. Also that the same church 
that Christ left would be restored again, with apostles, 
prophets, and all its gifts and blessings; and that I should 
live to hear it preached on this island. “And when you hear 
it’ said he, ‘you may know it is true; but the people will not 
receive it, they will be very angry instead, and turn and fight 
it.’ And,” added the narrator, “I had forgotten the whole 
circumstance for years, till I heard you preach; then it all 
came back to me, and I am satisfied this is what he had refer¬ 
ence to. He rode with me some time, expounding the Scrip¬ 
tures from beginning to end in astonishing clearness and 
rapidity. Then he said, ‘I have rode far enough now, and 
will get out.’ 

“I stopped the horses and let him get out without thinking 
of where we were until after I had started again. I did 
not even look to see which way he went. When alone again, 
I began to wonder who it could be that was such an able 
preacher and yet not known. There were not so many people 
in those villages in those days that a stranger could come and 
go unknown to the people. He was not in the garb of a minis¬ 
ter, nor did he claim to be one. And again, where was he 
going on foot at that time of night, and on that road? It 
was not one that diverged into different ways; but was the 
one road through an uninhabited region of country, and the 
only road between the two settlements. If he were going to 
the village ahead, why did he wish to get out while so far 
from it? He was no nearer any habitation when he alighted 
than when first overtaken. The more I thought over the 
circumstance, the more strange and unnatural it appeared. 
And as I recalled what he had said, it dawned upon my mind 
that he spoke with more than man’s wisdom and knowledge. 


Possibly the narrator did not give the exact words in 
this sentence spoken by the stranger; for the restored gospel 
had then been on the earth some twelve or fourteen years.— 
Writer. 






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BEATRICE WITHERSPOON AT THE AGE OF FORTY. 

With husband and youngest daughter, Addie. Taken in 
Australia. 





BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


257 


Then,” said he, “I began to get scared and gave the horses 
the whip .and drove fast the remainder of the way.” 

Our friend spoke with all confidence in regard to the 
truth of the work, yet did not seem to realize that it was his 
duty to obey it. 

By the above testimony, it seems that our trip to Cape 
Breton was planned for, a long time before we were aware 
of it; that it was one of the “times before appointed.” 

While on this island I had been so successful in selling 
“systems” that the receipts of the same, together with a five- 
dollar gold piece given Mr. Burton by his cousin, gave us 
sufficient to afford to take the steamer at the straits^—horse, 
buggy, and all—for Pictou, which clipped off two or three 
day’s travel by land, and taking a more direct route back, 
we reached Rawdon early in November, if I remember rightly, 
without encountering another storm. When within a few 
hours’ drive of Rawdon, a sense of relief came over us. We 
had accomplished that long-anticipated journey without ac¬ 
cident or being stormbound anywhere, though it was late in 
the season. All had gone well with us. And as we talked 
the matter over we congratulated ourselves on being per¬ 
mitted to obtain sufficient on the trip to come back a little 
more comfortably, and independently, too, than we went; 
that one could breathe so much more healthily to drive up to 
a house and ask for accommodations and pay for them, than 
to be cringing under the knowledge that we must impose 
ourselves on the people, because we had nothing to pay with, 
I remarked that I felt several inches taller than while going. 

“I wonder,” said Mr. Burton, “how much we are out, finan¬ 
cially, by the trip.” He had noted in his diary when we left 
Rawdon that he had seven dollars in cash, and taking out his 
purse found it now contained just seven dollars. 




CHAPTER 14 


N OW that we had visited all the places mapped out in 
our minds before leaving California, and many others 
besides, we felt that the burden of our work in that mission 
was accomplished. Some of the seed sown had fallen on 
good ground and resulted in the building up of two branches 
of the church; one in South Rawdon and one in Delhaven. 
The latter consisted entirely of members of my father’s fam¬ 
ily; one brother, three brothers-in-law, four sisters, two sis- 
ters-in-law, and one niece; one of those sisters-in-law was 
Brother George’s wife. Others have been added to the branch, 
but none except those belonging to the family tree. It seems 
indeed that it was to my kinsfolks we were sent. All who 
had heard up to that time believed, except my father. Mother 
was not baptized at that time, because father was so bitterly 
opposed. Brother George had gone to his long home before 
the branch was organized; but not until some had been bap¬ 
tized and he knew the work would be established. It had been 
his most earnest prayer and the desire of his heart to see the 
latter-day work established in that country and other mem¬ 
bers of the family obey the fullness of the gospel. And 
when disease had made him weak and weary, he asked not to 
be restored to health and live, but in the words of Simeon of 
old, when he beheld the Lord’s Christ, he said, ** ‘Lord, now 
lettest thou thy servant depart in peace,’ for mine eyes have 
seen thy work accepted in this land.” And closing his eyes, 
immediately the happy spirit took its flight, while he yet sat 
in his armchair, so peacefully that those near him knew it 
not. “Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord.” 

We were in South Rawdon at the time of his death, No¬ 
vember, 1883, and did not return to Delhaven till Christmas 
time. The winter was a very busy one for both husband and 
me. Our minds were made up to return to California in the 
coming spring. We wished to leave in time to attend con¬ 
ference at Stewartsville, Missouri, on our way. Many dollars 
must be added to the price of our horse and buggy to pay our 
fare as far as conference; and much depended on my personal 
exertions, which were made in faith, expecting the Lord to 
bless my efforts to that end; and I was not disappointed. I 
often think of a conversation with Grandma North over. She 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


259 


did not belong to the church, but was friendly. She was 
speaking of our going away. I told her the day was set for 
our departure, which was not many weeks hence, and that 
we then had only twelve dollars towards our passage money. 

“And how are you going to get the rest?” 

“I do not know exactly how, but I am working and praying, 
and I believe the Lord will bring it to pass some way, though 
it takes a great deal of faith to believe it in this country in 
the spring of the year.” 

“I should think so!” said she; “and if you accomplish it 
this time and get olf when you want to, I guess you will 
never undertake such a thing again.” 

“Oh, yes I will, grandma, the very next time it is neces¬ 
sary; for the Lord will be just as able and willing to help me 
out another time, as this; don’t you think so?” 

“I suppose he is; but I would not like to try it.” 

The first conference of the Church of Jesus Christ of Lat¬ 
ter Day Saints ever held in Novia Scotia convened in South 
Rawdon, in the latter part of the winter of which I am now 
speaking, 1884. Brother Holmes, from Lockhartville, and 
Brother and Sister J. W. Layton from Parrsboro were in 
attendance; and best of all, the Holy Spirit was with us. 
And were it not for the sad news of the death of our beloved 
brother-in-law, Leander Sanford, and the knowledge that 
dear Sister Sophia was at home sad and lonely, our joy for 
the time being would have been full. 

We were with Sophia a few days, shortly after her hus¬ 
band was taken sick, and desired much to visit her again 
after his death; but were warned by the Lord in a dream not 
to return to that place again at that time. And we had 
reason to believe it was wisdom to heed the warning. 

Brother Leander had not been baptized; was about ready 
to be when taken sick, and his mind was firmly made up to 
do so as soon as he got well. But though his life was not 
spared, he passed away very happy in the knowledge that 
Christ was his Savior. He desired to pass away rather than 
live and renew the conflict with the world. Felt confident that 
he would be further instructed on the other side of the river, 
and accomplish there what he had failed to attain to here. 
Prior to our advent among them he had not thought much 
about religion; but from that first day’s talk, spoken of in 
the previous chapter, he had defended the latter-day v^rork. 


260 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


and received and cared for us at the cost of the friendship of 
many of his relatives. Sophia’s health was quite delicate 
from heart and lung trouble, when her husband died; shortly 
after which she commenced to fail rapidly, and soon followed 
her husband to the spirit world, leaving three children, Flos¬ 
sie, Ada, and Albert, without mother or father. 

On our return homeward, we tarried a week with the Bos¬ 
ton Branch, which time was very pleasantly spent with those 
live Saints. One day was spent at Sister Mary Whiton’s. 
Sister Susan was with us also. Joseph was not present with 
us. We each were in a mood for bearing testimony, and the 
time was spent in relating our experience in the gospel, or 
our evidences of the power of God being contained therein. 

My sister Lucinda, who then lived in Providence, Rhode 
Island, came to Boston to meet us, and hear for herself 
some of the new religion that had caused most of the family 
to forsake almost everything else. I enjoyed her visit very 
much, and in our private conversation took much pleasure in 
explaining our faith to her. She found no fault with the 
doctrine; it all seemed to be so harmonious; and she believed 
she had learned more about the Scriptures in those talks, 
together with the two sermons she heard, than in all her 
life before. 

After our visit in Boston, Lucinda accompanied us to Provi¬ 
dence again. There we bade each other a last good-by for 
this world. She, too, has crossed the dark river to the mystic 
shore. 

During the time that had elapsed since our last visit at 
Delhaven, my father and mother had taken up their residence 
with my brother Harris, in Elizabeth, New Jersey, and we 
embraced the opportunity of spending one more day with 
them. That was the last time I saw father. He was very 
friendly and accompanied us to the station. And while the 
cars bear us rapidly towards the West, I will indulge in a 
retrospect. I like to remember that last visit with him; he 
was as pleasant, cordial, and kind as if there did not exist 
the difference in our religious belief which had placed a gulf 
between us while in Nova Scotia. He never accepted the 
faith, but previous to his death had ceased to contend against 
it. They had returned to Nova Scotia again, and were visit¬ 
ing with relatives in Hantsport at the time of his death. 
While there he had expressed himself to his sister in this 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


261 


wise: “I shall not say anything more against the church that 
the children have joined. John and Ida have been so good to 
me I have concluded to let them alone concerning their re¬ 
ligion. They have just as good a right to their belief as 
we have to ours; and it certainly has not made them less 
good.” 

On the day previous to his departing this life, he was heard 
to say that he never felt so happy in his life. He attended 
two services in the Baptist church and rather than remain 
away from the house of worship, he attended a third in the 
Methodist church. Forgetting all difference in denomina¬ 
tional views, he worshiped sincerely with them. He was a 
stranger in that congregation, and to the minister also; but 
was noticed by him, who after meeting made inquiry to know 
who it was, saying: “If there were such things nowadays 
as people being translated, I would say that man would go 
to heaven before morning. He had the most heavenly ex¬ 
pression in his countenance I ever beheld.” 

Father was as well as usual when he retired. During the 
night mother heard him give a short cough, accompanied by a 
stifled groan. And when he did not answer her inquiry if 
there was anything the matter, she got up and made a light 
as quickly as possible, but he was gone. 

It gratifies me to pay this tribute to my father^s memory. 
From the time he united with the Baptist Church in early 
manhood, he had lived a conscientious, consistent, Christian 
life; scrupulously honest in all his dealings; never used pro¬ 
fane or obscene language; neither used tobacco in any form, 
nor intoxicating drinks, and maintained the power of mind 
over mind, to rear his sons in like manner. He manifested 
such a disgust for both the drink and anyone who was ad¬ 
dicted to the habit of using it, that from earliest childhood 
we all looked upon such indulgences as disgraceful, at least 
beneath any man who wished to be regarded as a gentleman; 
and for a woman to thus indulge, she must be lost to all 
sense of self-respect. (And to this day my faith in the in¬ 
tegrity of a man, as well as my esteem for him, is greatly 
damaged if I know him to indulge even occasionally in a 
glass of spirituous liquors, wine, ale, or lager beer.) 

Father regarded dancing and novel reading in much the 
same light; consequently such doings were not tolerated in 
his family, and we were doubtless thereby saved from many 


262 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


a snare. It is true he, for a time, strongly opposed the lat¬ 
ter-day work; but had we dealt with him according to his 
disposition, and let the truth force itself upon him he might 
not have resented it. May God deal more gently with him. 

On looking back, I can see that the time of our going to 
Nova Scotia was opportune. Had it been but one year later, 
we would not have found the family unbroken, as it was our 
privilege to at the time of our going. My youngest brother, 
Albert was the only one of the family we did not meet at that 
time; he was on a foreign sea voyage. He, too, has passed 
over the dark river. Thus one by one the members of our 
household have left this stage of action. Father, with four, 
is on the other side. Mother is still with the six that remain. 

Our next halt was at Stewartsville, Missouri, to attend 
General Conference. At this conference my husband was ap¬ 
pointed to the South Sea Islands mission, in connection with 
Brother T. W. Smith. The latter to go to the Society Islands, 
and Mr. Burton to Australia. This appointment, coming when 
it did, was a great trial to me, although the thought was not 
altogether new to us. For some years both my husband and I 
had been under the impression that the time would come when 
he would be sent to Australia. I saw it twice in a dream, and 
that I accompanied him; and also that the occasion was 
fraught with much anxiety and perplexity. We would some¬ 
times talk the matter over, with a view to preparing our¬ 
selves for such an event. But there were so many barriers 
that seemed insurmountable, I was wont to take refuge in 
the argument, that while he was an elder only, it would not 
be required of him to take a foreign mission; and thus kept 
putting it away in the future, for Australia seemed to me, in 
those days to be a very, very long way off. 

After turning our faces homeward, from Nova Scotia, my 
thoughts were so occupied with home and the children, and 
the enjoyment of settling down again for awhile, that even 
the delay for conference was a trifle tedious. Therefore, when 
the appointment was made known to me, it was like a shock 
of a ship that had come in contact with a rock and suddenly 
brought to a quivering standstill for a few moments; and 
then came the reaction of tears of sorrow and disappoint¬ 
ment, followed by a calm indifference for a few days, in which 
interval the possibility of our going to Australia seemed very 
vague, indefinite, among the things that were most unlikely to 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


263 


occur. But that, too, was a reaction; and soon the conflict 
commenced between conflicting duties ; that to my husband on 
the one side, and our children on the other. Which of those 
was I to separate myself from? 

It was a hard position to choose between, and it seemed at 
times as if my heart was being drawn asunder. I could not 
bear the thought of such a long separation from my hus¬ 
band. The light of earthly life would be gone, and my dark¬ 
ness would overshadow the young lives of the children, and 
they, too, would be made unhappy. On the other hand, 
parental duty, as well as love, forbade the thought of leav¬ 
ing the children, especially the girls; they were just the age 
when they most needed a mother’s care, and were already 
very weary of being separated from us. The second year of 
our stay in Nova Scotia had not passed so pleasantly with 
them as the first; they had had some sickness and much lone¬ 
liness. I hoped after we got home my duty would be made 
plainer. How tedious to me were the many delays we en¬ 
countered on our trip homeward. Every day that kept me 
away from them was a loss; and when at length we arrived, 
what a joyful meeting it was! The three children with their 
Aunt Libbie and new uncle. Will Rockwell, had gathered 
home a few weeks before our arrival to set things in order 
to receive us. 

We kept the knowledge of the appointment from them for 
awhile, that their joy might be full. But they soon discovered 
that there was something troubling me, so I told them of the 
appointment. 

“Oh, mother!” they said, “you promised us you would not 
leave us again.” 

“Neither will I,” I answered. Yet could not see my way 
clear either way. 

There was not sufficient money in the treasury when the 
appointment was made to pay even one passage, for which I 
was very thankful, as it gave us the benefit of a few months’ 
deliberation. But as time moved around we were forced to 
decide on some course. My husband’s conclusions were that 
I should accompany him, and that we take our two daughters 
and leave the son, he being of age and not depending upon 
us for support. And apart from this he had a personal rea¬ 
son for not going. To do this we must needs sell our home 
and use a portion to pay their passage and other expenses. 


264 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


This would involve the sacrifice of home, besides the trial of 
separating the family. But it was the only way open to us, 
unless he went alone or gave up the mission; and such a 
thought as that, I am sure, never entered his head or heart 
either. 

At first the above proposition seemed to be a gleam of light 
on our path, but the clouds of difficulty soon gathered about 
it. On the one hand, the thought of us all going away and 
leaving Frank to battle with the world alone, with no home 
to go to when weary or sick, no father to counsel him, no 
mother to guard him by her love and care, no sisters to cheer 
him with their companionship, wrung my heart. It seemed 
so like turning him adrift in the world. And I inwardly 
questioned much as to whether it was right to take him from 
those safeguards against temptation and the snares of the 
Adversary. Suppose to divert loneliness—for he was keenly 
sensitive to the situation—he should mingle with those who 
would stealthily draw him into paths of vice; and oh, what 
a dreadful thought it would be, if in our zeal to save others 
we neglected and lost our own! 

And again, was it right for us to sell our little home? 
Money in hand soon slipped away; and if we were spared to 
fulfill our mission and return again, what then? I knew the 
elder’s family was provided for while he was in active serv¬ 
ice. But our experience in obtaining a home had been fraught 
with much difficulty and many privations, and could we 
reasonably expect the future would be any different from 
the past? 

I do not think it was a lack of faith in the promise: “But 
seek ye first to build up the kingdom of God, and to establish 
his righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto 
you.” I have unbounded faith in God to provide for temporal as 
well as spiritual needs, if we have used wisely what has al¬ 
ready been given. But I believe he requires his people to exer¬ 
cise wisdom; and when they do not, they usually have to suffer 
the consequence. So if we had a home, and unwisely let it 
slip from us, could we reasonably expect God to provide us 
with another? Such thoughts as these continually revolved in 
my mind, hedging up the way on all sides. 

Oh, how I prayed for the Lord to lead me right, and not 
permit me to make a grave error; and at the same time, 
without knowing it, I was refusing to be led. The buyer had 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


265 


come twice since the first verbal agreement to get my free 
consent to the sale; but after a few words, I broke down each 
time. I could not say yes, and dared not say no, lest that, 
too, would be wrong; so remained harassed and undecided, 
sometimes almost persuading myself to think it was not the 
Lord’s will that we should go. How I wished I could see by 
faith; but my faith was dormant. I was left to my own 
strength, and that was weakness. During the daytime I 
tried to be cheerful in the presence of the children; but when 
night came on, a gloom would settle over me. Night after 
night my pillow was bathed in tears, especially if I was alone 
and did not seek to suppress my feelings. The outward cir¬ 
cumstances may not warrant such exercise of feeling. But 
it has been wisely said: ^‘What is a trial to one is no trial at 
all to another.” There is sometimes a peculiar element mixed 
up with the outward cause that makes some trials, which look 
small to others, particularly trying. We see the Savior, for 
instance, wrestling in prayer, and in great heaviness sweating 
drops of blood, just prior to his crucifixion; praying the 
Father, “If it be possible, let this cup pass.” We might ask. 
Why this great exhibition of feeling, when hundreds of mar¬ 
tyrs have calmly met a more cruel death? Hundreds, too, have 
met death calmy who scarcely had a hope beyond the grave, 
while he had power to lay down his life, and power to take it 
again. And if it was because he must meet and conquer the 
Adversary in his own dominion that caused the great anguish, 
one might think that the faith he had in his Father should 
have been sufficient to give him a knowledge that he would 
conquer and return victorious; for mark his prayer: “Father, 
glorify thou me with thine own self with the glory which I 
had with thee before the world was”; and again, that his 
disciples might be with him in his glory. But the powers 
of darkness were waging their war against him, and the 
Father had withdrawn his strengthening influence, and he 
was left to himself to bear the trial in his natural strength, 
and decide by the exercise of his own agency whether he would 
“drink of the cup” or not. And here we can discern a little of 
the human nature. He was fully intent on doing his Father’s 
will, but could it not be done as acceptablv in some easier way? 
is visible in the request, “If thou be willing, remove this cup 
from m.e.” 

One memorable night, being alone, I was sorrowing and 


266 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


weeping in mental anguish, and fairly clutched the bedclothes 
for support, as though I should sink if I did not hold to 
something; and cried out in my distress, “0 God, help me!” 
Then subsiding a little, murmured, “What is there that can 
compensate for all this trouble?” When the voiceless words 
came to me in startling clearness: “Eternal life.” And at 
the same time I felt a presence, as one does when he knows 
just where another is sitting, though the room is dark and he 
can not see him. So I felt that the Lord was there; not in 
the brightness of his glory, nor the power of him might, but 
as a father; and seemed to be looking calmly on me in my 
petty sorrow, just as a gentle but unswerving parent while 
dealing with a rebellious child, quietly waiting for it to sob out 
its grief and passion, and accept the proffered terms of recon¬ 
ciliation. And I learned that night what many another child 
has learned, and what very many have yet to learn, that no 
amount of tears or prayers will induce the Father to swerve 
one iota from the already given terms. 

“Eternal life?” my thoughts echoed; and oh, how dark 
my soul must have been, for I really felt for a moment that 
that was little enough. But, repenting of my ingratitude, I 
said, “Yes, it is a great deal; but hundreds will receive that 
also, who are never called upon to make any sacrifice. They 
can live at home with their children and their friends, have 
every comfort around them, and to give a few dollars now 
and then seems to be all that is required of them. They know 
nothing of the trial of faith which those are subject to who 
have often to pray in reality, ‘Give us this day our daily 
bread.’ ” And yet they were good Saints and would be saved 
in the kingdom of God; while to do my duty I must give up 
all, and suffer so much in consequence, and have to endure 
so many things that were galling to my nature. Why was 
there such a difference? Then came the silent answer from him 
who was present with me: “That is their portion to enjoy 
in this life; have you no joys which they have not? Are you 
seeking nothing more than salvation?” 

“What have I that they have not?” My mind was for the 
moment dwelling on temporal comforts, and the question 
seemed absurd. But quick as thought memory swept back 
a little. I saw and heard what I had once before; a dear, 
good sister sat in her comfortable chair, in her pretty little 
home, surrounded with many luxuries. I had been relating 



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FRANK W. BURTON 





BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


267 


a night vision, in which the Lord Jesus appeared and talked 
with me. She thought my blessings greater than hers, and 
said: ^Tf we are all the Lord’s children, why does not he 
serve us all alike? Why can not I have a testimony like 
that?” 

Ah, sister! I thought, you would not like to be in my 
place now. To this the spirit answer was, “All things are 
bought with a price.” I could only groan, “Lord, help me 
to bear the price.” 

And again, “These light afflictions work a far more ex¬ 
ceeding and eternal weight of glory.” 

“Light afflictions?” I repeated; and a “weight of glory.” 
What indeed must be the glory that is called a “weight,” 
when those afflictions which are termed “light,” are all one 
can bear? The promise was away beyond me. I could not 
grapple with it. In truth, I had been sustaining such a men¬ 
tal weight for the past few months, and was then in such 
heaviness of spirit that the word weight tired rather than 
soothed or buoyed me up. The quotation being the words of 
the Apostle Paul, my thoughts turned upon him and his 
suffering for the gospel’s sake, and also the other apostles, 
and many others in all ages of the world, as well as those 
of our own day, till my own appeared as but a drop in a 
bucket; and yet that little was hard for me to endure. 

Ah, thought I, how very necessary must be the preaching 
of the gospel. Hundreds must suffer; families be broken up; 
husbands and wives, parents and children separated, per¬ 
haps never more to be really united; and still the work must 
go on. No compromise was offered because of these gloomy 
conditions. I heard only my own words with greater em¬ 
phasis, go on’* 

But is all this trouble necessary? Is not one soul as pre¬ 
cious as another? Why need we go away off among strangers 
who know nothing of us, and in whom we have no interest, 
when thousands are perishing in our own land? Why not 
remain and save souls here? 0, Father! can we not do thy 
will as acceptably to remain and be spared this great trial 
of parting with our home and friends, and separating the 
children? And this brought back the thought of leaving my 
boy so long, and all my grief burst forth afresh. When that 
subsided a little, and the “still small voice” could be heard, 
it was: “Where would you have been had not Christ left his 



268 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


Father^s glory and come to this world to seek and save those 
who knew him not?” 

I must have been partly in vision, for it was so real to me 
that, while talking, I was standing with my back to the 
bed, opposite the personage from whom came those responses. 
Only when I wept did I realize my real position. Then I 
seemed to see the “man of sorrows and acquainted with 
grief.” It was as though he came from the upper part of 
the room, and so very near in front of me that I gazed on 
the form at first with bated breath, being myself for a mo¬ 
ment. But as he passed along without looking this way or 
that, the walls of the room disappeared, and a broad stretch 
of country opened to view. I watched him as he traveled 
wearily to and fro upon the earth, homeless, and with a sad 
and heavy countenance, indicating mental suffering; and the 
words rang in my ears: “All who follow him must suffer in 
like manner.” 

“Lord, give me strength, and I will follow. But oh, my 
son! my only son! How hard it is to leave him alone, know¬ 
ing he will suffer so much from loneliness.” 

“I freely gave my Son to suffer and to die.” 

“Forgive me. Father; I will do right.” But I wondered 
why, in this my need, I did not receive that power and in¬ 
fluence of the Spirit that would be so comforting. It seemed 
to me the Father was still there, just beyond the window, 
sitting in a light-colored armchair, such as I had not in the 
house, but not offering any further help; and I learned from 
some influence that to follow Christ I must decide in my 
own strength as he did. My thoughts turned to the garden of 
Gethsemane; and in fancy, or vision, I again saw the “Man 
of Sorrows” wrestling in prayer, and I thought I knew better 
than before the cause of his great suffering, a portion at least 
being the struggle between duty and inclination, with all 
that it involved on both sides, made as poignant as the powers 
of darkness were capable of making it. 

And as I gazed upon him, I recognized in my night of bit¬ 
terness of soul, the footprints, however faint, of his night of 
mental anguish, and felt that to follow Christ was more of a 
reality than I had heretofore been aware of. And I felt com¬ 
forted in the knowledge that I was in very deed following 
my Lord and Master. And the promise is, “If we suffer 
with him, we shall also reign with him.” All night my cry 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


269 


had been, “Let the cup pass,” but when I arose in the morn¬ 
ing, after a few hours sleep, it was with the solemn feeling 
of, “Thy will be done.” I had passed the Gethsemane of my 
missionary life, and arose strengthened, and no longer with¬ 
held my consent to the sale of the place. Then preparations 
commenced in earnest. 

When our intention of taking the two girls was made 
known, we had a visit from Captain Howland’s eldest son, 
Joseph, with the request that we leave our daughter Dora 
in his care. He had not intended such an early marriage; 
but if she could not be left as Dora Burton, it must be as 
Mrs. Howland. Consequently hasty preparations must be 
made for a wedding, which served as a pleasant diversion, 
seeing Dora was so content to be thus left. It was some¬ 
thing of a comfort to us all to know that there would be one 
of the family that Frank could see once in awhile. And when 
Frank sought our consent to his engagement to Miss Annie 
Betts, we were pleased to know that he would not be alto¬ 
gether alone, but would have some one to live for, and think 
of, and visit occasionally, although he contemplated living 
alone yet two years or more. 

Dora was married on the first day of October, 1884, in the 
church at early lamplight. The church had been beautifully 
decorated for the occasion, and was crowded to its utmost 
capacity. The bridal party of six looked their best; there 
were no jars or blunders, all was harmonious and moved along 
as smoothly as a silver bell; yet the marriage service was so 
solemn there were few dry eyes in the house. 

Dora had chosen her father to perform the ceremony; at the 
close of which he, too, broke down entirely, buried his face in 
his hands and wept like a child. It is hard to sever those 
parental ties and give our children away. After a lively 
scene of handshaking all around, and hearty congratulations 
and social chatting, a small party of about thirty accom¬ 
panied us home, where the wedding feast was served and 
the evening spent in a pleasant, social manner. " 

Our new son and daughter remained with us one week,— 
bright, happy week!—after which Dora went to her new 
home, leaving Addie almost heartbroken. 

A short time previous to our departure we were at La¬ 
guna Canyon having a few good-by meetings. All who were 
present will remember them. At or near the close of one 


270 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


evening meeting some one had been administered to. When 
Brother Mills had taken his hands off the person’s head, he 
walked directly over to where I was, and placing his hands 
upon my head, said: “Dear sister, in the name of the Lord 
Jesus Christ I seal thee up to eternal life,” after which he 
spoke several minutes, freely and feelingly, in both prayer and 
prophecy. 

Was that first sentence simply a form of words? To me it 
was far more. It was as though a holy unction had been 
poured over my head, and coursed through my whole body, 
and I felt to be on a higher plane and in a clearer light than 
ever before. Everyone who has been baptized in faith, for 
the remission of sins, knows how clear and light and good 
he felt when he came out of the water. I did. But here was 
a greater change even than that which was produced by 
baptism; a spiritual strength stronger than the ties of nature, 
and which buoyed me up at the parting hour, so that I could 
bid a cheerful good-by to my almost heartbroken son and 
sorrowing friends. True, my own tears flowed with theirs; 
but it was because of their sorrow more than my own. 

We had previously received word from the bishop that he 
expected to have the money on hand for us to take passage 
on the November boat but since there was some uncertainty 
about it, we were not to go to the city until notified. 

Possession of the place had been given up, and we were 
spending the remaining days at Brother and Sister Betts’s. 
The boat was to sail on Saturday, the 24th, and the time 
was so nearly expired that we began to be fearful lest we 
should be delayed another month; and the children were be¬ 
coming very hopeful that we would be thus delayed. And 
yet no word came till one day only remained to decide the 
question. How vividly that day lingers in memory. The 
morning was one of autumn’s best. Frank and Addie, with 
Sister Betts’s young people, were off to Santa Ana, to the 
post office, about five miles distant, early in the day, in quest 
of a letter from the bishop. They came back in high glee. 
“No letter from the East,” said Frank. “.This one is only 
from San Francisco, and to-morrow it will be too late. Good, 
good! We will have you with us another month.” 

His father tore the envelope from the letter, while we all 
stood on the front steps, where we had met the children, and 
read: “The money has just arrived from the East. The 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


271 


steamer sails on Saturday at noon. Hope you will be able to 
reach the city in time to join her, etc. Bishop’s agent, T. J. 
Andrews.” 

How quickly the smiles faded from each face, and tears 
welled up in the children’s eyes. A hush fell over the mirth¬ 
fulness of all. When the letter was read, all turned and 
walked in the house in solemn silence, like as though we were 
entering the presence of the dead. It was a sad day. We 
were to leave at five o’clock in the morning, consequently 
each one was as busy as could be, yet few words were spoken. 
But when evening came and all preparations had been com¬ 
pleted, and nothing further to engross the mind, it was sad¬ 
der yet. Each was too busy with his own thoughts for con¬ 
versation. The young people went to the organ to have a 
good-by sing; but the “good-by” was uppermost, and choked 
the voices too much for singing. Frank sat by my side hold¬ 
ing my hand in one of his, while the other covered his eyes. 

Several of the Saints who lived near came in during the 
evening, and nearly all joined in a season of heartfelt prayer 
at the close of the evening. 

When the company had dispersed, our chairs were drawn 
up in close connection to have a few comforting words with 
each other before our parting, seeing there would be no time 
for such in the morning. Joseph was the chief speaker. A 
review of God’s care and loving-kindness over his children 
in all ages of the world, and especially in our own experi¬ 
ence, inspiring faith and trust in him for the time to come, 
with all its vicissitudes, pointing out the path that was sure 
to lead to happiness, and incur the pleasure and blessings of 
God. After which we retired for a few hours. 

It was still in the short hours of the night when Sister 
Betts’s light footsteps could be heard in the kitchen, preparing 
and putting up lunch for us to take on the cars, as well as 
making breakfast. 

As we drove to Santa Ana station, enveloped in darkness 
and cold, drizzly fog, each knew that our last opportunity for 
speaking with each other—at least for years—was slipping 
away. Each knew that when such privilege was not ours 
how much we would have to say; and yet we allowed it to 
pass unoccupied. Streaks of daylight were appearing in the 
east when we reached the station, where the trainmen were 
beginning to muster. 


272 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


I will pass over that half hour in the car before the train 
pulled out of the station. Semidarkness and somber gloom 
of atmosphere always add to depression of spirits. The day¬ 
light came in good time .to impart a ray of cheerfulness after 
the good-bys had been said. As for ourselves, there was one 
more bright spot to look forward to, while the cars bore us 
away from those left behind, that of seeing Dora again, even 
for a few minutes. A telegram had been sent to her to meet 
us at the station in Los Angeles at a given time. They wished 
to have as long a visit as they could in the short time allotted, 
therefore aimed to meet the train at Florence and ride into 
town with us, which would of course be a pleasant surprise. 
Captain and Mrs. Howland—who never made two bites of a 
cherry—were in company, bearing generous offerings to the 
missionary family. All had some token of thoughtful kind¬ 
ness, hoping if possible to soothe in some measure the har¬ 
rowed feelings at the parting hour, or at least cause pleasant 
thoughts in the days to come. But unfortunately the train 
time had changed that morning to one half hour earlier; and 
instead of being in plenty of time, as they anticipated, they 
reached Florence just as the train was starting out again. 
Not willing to give up without another effort. Captain How¬ 
land put his horses in the stables and took out a fresh pair, 
and drove them at their utmost speed to Los Angeles, and 
got in sight of the station just in time to see the train pull 
out. We did not get sight of them at all. It was a sad dis¬ 
appointment; more depressing to the spirits than to have met 
and parted again, and more especially because we knew not 
the cause of their nonappearance; yet my own sorrow and 
disappointment were not so hard to bear as to witness Ad- 
die’s. Foreign lands had no charms for her, and the great 
deep that rolled betv/een had its terrors. 

The ride to San Francisco was not such as would divert 
the mind from its own gloominess. We were on an emigrant 
train; and the clouds of smoke, the dust and cinders, and 
our traveling companions also were quite in keeping with our 
feelings. 

The steamer did not sail at her appointed time, was de¬ 
layed—waiting for the English mail—till Monday noon, which 
time was very pleasantly spent by us with friends in San 
Francisco and Oakland. 

After the first week at sea, in which we encountered some 






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BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


278 


very heavy weather, the voyage to Australia was a very 
pleasant one. There were some very agreeable passengers 
on board, with whom we made acquaintance. 

All enjoyed the call at Honolulu, and wished it could have 
been longer. The ship entered the harbor at four o’clock in 
the morning. Only the outline of the island was discernible; 
but the large pier was all alive with natives with abundance 
of the products of the island; also women with their wares 
of shells and other curiosities, all displayed by numerous 
flaming, glaring torches. The white clothes of the dressed-up 
men of the island looked very white, cool, and pretty. The 
sun was peeping over the high hills as we steamed away 
from the island, which looked lovely, nestling in its foliage 
of green. A smooth sea and very warm weather was the 
order of each day for the next two weeks, and then another 
call at Auckland. 


CHAPTER 15 


W E arrived in Auckland on a Sunday afternoon. How 
joyous all were at the sight of land again, and how 
pretty the green mountains and bluffy projections looked to 
our sea-satiated eyes. Being Sunday, the pier was packed 
with people to see the steamer come in, besides those who 
came to greet friends. I have heard of an assembly of people 
being all aglow, but never saw it so well represented before. 
Red hats, red feathers, red ribbons, and red dresses were in 
the majority among the female portion. The ship was de¬ 
tained only a few hours, but long enough to land some of our 
most lively and social passengers, and we all missed them. 
The remainder of the voyage was dull and gloomy. Heavy 
weather set in at once, and stayed with us until within a 
day of Sydney. 

The sight of Sydney heads was hailed with still greater joy 
than that of Auckland; by some, because they were getting 
home, and with others because they were getting into port. 
And what a beautiful port it was! I believe Sydney harbor is 
only rivaled in natural beauty by one other in the world— 
that of Buenos Aires. Beauty and variety greeted the eye 
at every turn, as we steamed slowly up the great harbor, some 
ten miles in length. We three forgot we were foreigners and 
strangers, so delighted were we to get to our far-off destina¬ 
tion, and entered into the joys of those who were meeting 
loved ones, many of whom came part way down the harbor 
in boats, so eager were they to get a peep at the long absent 
faces, and wave handkerchiefs as a silent welcome home. 
Nor was there anything to remind us that it was the month 
of December. The bright sunshine and balmy air; the 
light, fluffy dresses, white hats, laces, and parasols, all be¬ 
spoke a picnic on a lovely June morning. But when the ship 
was moored, the gangway put down, and people began to 
rush on board and exchange greetings and escort their own 
on shore, the reaction came, and we realized that we were in 
a strange land. 

There were none to greet us or give us a welcome to 
their shores, nor did we know where to go. That June morn¬ 
ing was December with us before noon. Our not being met 
was largely due to the ship having arrived two hours before 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


275 


schedule time. After waiting till most of the passengers 
had left the ship, Mr. Burton went on shore to see if he could 
find anyone to whom we were going, or learn Brother Ellis’s 
address. And as Addie and I sat there after even the officers 
had gone ashore, and the cabs and busses had left the dock, 
I assure you we felt more forlorn and homesick than we wish 
to again. 

Presently we saw a young man coming towards the gang¬ 
way with the haste and expression of one who had a purpose, 
and we readily supposed we were the objects of his search, 
as was soon proven. The young man was Mr. (and after¬ 
wards Brother) Morris. Sister Ellis soon followed, and con¬ 
ducted us by way of tram to her house. That first day in 
Australia will ever be remembered as a sadly homesick day 
to all three of us. Addie and I were pioneers to that country, 
in the sense of accompanying the missionary husband and 
father, and encountered some experiences that are common to 
pioneers of any department. 

Our arrival was on Saturday, and Saturday evening in 
the colony brings Paddy’s market always; and Paddy’s mar¬ 
ket brings out the crowd. And since there are sights worth 
seeing. Brother Ellis proposed that we should go, and es¬ 
corted us thither. The wind blew fearfully, nearly sweep¬ 
ing us off our feet at the street crossings, and causing the 
dust to eddy around our faces and eyes in a most uncomfort¬ 
able manner. When we got into the heart of the city 
we fairly had to elbow our way along, jostled to one side 
and then the other, and crowded back, and for a minute or 
so lost sight of Brother Ellis altogether. All Sydney must 
have been on the sidewalks. And if Vanity Fair is found 
anywhere, it is at Paddy^s market. And oh, my! those who 
know how shaky a person feels the first day on terra firma, 
after a long sea voyage, can imagine how tired I was. Ad¬ 
die with her young company rode one way. When we got 
back to Brother Ellis’s I had been on my feet the entire eve¬ 
ning without once alighting on a place to sit down and rest. 

But much of the recuperating power of youth was mine 
in those days, and the next day, Sunday, found us rested, re¬ 
freshed, and ready for another long walk, and a more ted¬ 
ious process also of standing still for an hour or more. There 
being no building at our disposal where the crowd could 
come to us and hear the gospel if they wished to (and they 


276 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


did not wish to if they could), therefore we went to the 
crowd, down on the ‘‘Domain,” and held preaching services 
in the open air, where all Sydney seemed to have gathered. 
Besides ourselves and the Salvation Army, one or two other 
religious enterprises were holding forth at different places 
on the same grounds; also a political lecture was being de¬ 
livered—the latter drew the largest crowd, of course. Af¬ 
ter services, while walking over the grounds, we were de¬ 
lighted to see the familiar faces of some of our fellow-pas¬ 
sengers, who were booked for Victoria and had not yet 
sailed. 

We had gone to Australia with the intention of keeping 
house, and caring for ourselves as much as possible; and 
not wishing to do any unpacking of trunks till we were lo¬ 
cated, Joseph and I, with Sister Ellis as guide, started 
forth on Monday in search of rooms, furnished or unfur¬ 
nished, and returned unsuccessful. But we had not been 
everywhere, and next day sallied forth again. Eventually 
the object of our search was realized in one wing of a hard¬ 
ware and plumbing establishment, located at Glebe Point. 
It was a tumble-down looking affair within, where rats held 
full sway. But the accommodating young landlord assured us 
that a little carpenter work by way of patching up the floor, 
and restoring one or two lost doorsills, also the application 
of broom, scrubbing brush, and some new paper, would work 
wonders in appearance,—all of which he promised to have 
done as quickly as possible. There were three small rooms 
in front, which opened by way of glass doors out on a bal¬ 
cony, which balcony had a close railing about three feet high. 
Altogether the location was quite desirable, for a time at 
least, while we wanted to be amused by seeing the stir and 
bustle of the city, to keep us from thinking about home. 

Our next move was a visit to a secondhand furniture store, 
where a few of the most necessary articles of furniture were 
selected. All haste was made to get our rooms arranged before 
the holidays set in, for then all business was suspended for 
a week. The day before Christmas was a busy day for us 
all, but everything was completed by four o’clock. We took 
supper at Sister Ellis’s, and spent our Christmas Eve “doing 
the town,” in search of small stores enough to last during the 
coming week; and although among English-speaking people, 
it was not easy to make our wants known, they or we had 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


277 


■such queer names for tilings. But having eyes to see we 
could point out the articles desired, even if we could not call 
them by the name by which they were known with them. We 
enjoyed the new experience, together with sights and scenes, 
and returned with arms laden with parcels, and feeling quite 
Christmas-like. And as we thus entered our new home it 
seemed pleasant, cozy, and restful. The very atmosphere 
within gave back the echo of home at every step. The large 
street lamp that stood in the center of a triangular piece of 
ground in front of the building where the roads forked re¬ 
flected sufficient light in all three of the rooms to see our way 
about without stumbling, which gave us a cheerful reception. 
We enjoyed our Christmas breakfast of ham and eggs, our 
first meal in our foreign home, and also appreciated the privi¬ 
lege of settling down for awhile at least by ourselves. 

According to invitation we took dinner at Brother Ellis’s, 
after which they took us for a ferryboat excursion across the 
harbor, where we wandered aound over the picnic grounds, 
sometimes in shady groves and sometimes in the beating sun. 
The day was spent very pleasantly and would have been 
very enjoyable had it not been Christmas; but it was so un¬ 
like the Christmas that one year before I had looked for¬ 
ward to, that it brought many sad thoughts and feelings. I 
could not keep back the unwelcome thoughts that our family 
was permanently broken up. There would be no more stock¬ 
ings hung up by our chimney on the glad Christmas Eve; no 
more joyous Christmas mornings with children scampering 
about in night clothes and going into ecstacies over the con¬ 
tents of those stockings, however meager. I realized, and 
sadly too, that very many present opportunities had been re¬ 
garded slightingly, not making the most of them, but al¬ 
ways bespeaking better things, and more enjoyment in the 
future. And thus time passed away. The present, with all 
its attendant difficulties, was all that was ever granted us, 
and with us, as with many another, the future that we looked 
forward to had come and slipped into the past unrecognized, 
because it did not bring with it the circumstances we antici¬ 
pated, and the opportunities of what was the present flown 
for ever. And there came a hungry longing that has been 
with me many times since, to gather the children about me 
for a few years longer. With such feelings as these, how 
different our home seemed on our return, from what it did 


278 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


the evening before. The homelike coziness had fled—it all 
looked foreign and lonesome. 

The Saints of Australia had made a generous contribution 
for us before our arrival. Yet, according to information re¬ 
ceived, it seemed necessary that I should do something to¬ 
wards our support. I had prepared for this before leaving 
San Francisco, and invested in a new supply of “dress cut¬ 
ting systems.” I therefore equipped myself and started forth 
to see what I could do in the way of agency business, and 
tramped about the city several days without being rewarded 
by a single sale, and in many places not allowed to enter the 
house. That was not the way business was done in that 
country. Then I began to wonder if I could not do dress¬ 
making. I was sure I could make a well-fitting waist, but 
there was the draping and finishing that I knew very little 
about, except after my own style; and if I should fail to please 
some fastidious lady in an expensive dress, I was liable to 
have it thrown on my hands, and I would have the whole to 
pay for. Again, there was another consideration. I could 
not do dressmaking without a sewing machine, and I could 
not buy a machine unless I did dressmaking enough to pay for 
it. Our location and rooms were very favorable for the busi¬ 
ness, there being one small room on the first floor which 
opened right on the sidewalk. This room had two large win¬ 
dows that would admit abundance of light when the green 
blinds were thrown open, and also a gas jet for evenings. 
But it would need lots of fixing up to make a first-class 
dressmaker’s shop, and I hesitated to expend the money for 
such fixings lest I should not get it back again. While think¬ 
ing over these perplexing questions in the solitude of the 
night, an influence said as plainly as words could. Go ahead 
with what you have been thinking of doing; it will be all 
right. And that influence carried such conviction with it that 
all my doubts and fears fled away. 

Next morning a very businesslike air pervaded our es¬ 
tablishment, and many business calculations were made. We 
went and talked the matter over with Sister Ellis, who* 
was much in favor of the scheme, and advised by all means to 
have a sign painted and put up, saying we could do nothing 
without a sign; and laughingly suggested various captivating 
mottoes therefor, in French style, with a “Madam” attached; 
but none seemed to suit. “Madam” was to dignified a phrase 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


279 


to fit me; I knew I could not carry it gracefully, and sug¬ 
gested reproducing what was already on the “systems,” 
namely, “New York Eclipse Dress Cutting System,” which 
met with general approbation. Forthwith Joseph went to 
the sign painter’s and had several yards of white calico 
smeared over with those large black letters. Thence to the 
Chinaman and ordered a cutting table. Again to a furniture 
store and selected a sewing machine on the very easy terms 
of two shillings and sixpence per week. 

Sister Ellis let me have such things as I needed from her 
store at cost. In a few days we had a very attractive room, 
with bright carpet on the floor, and a large mirror placed be¬ 
tween curtains that hung to the floor, which cleverly con¬ 
cealed a badly defaced door. Extensive fashion plates from 
the London Journal were tacked to the wall where they could 
not fail to be seen. In one window was exhibited the system 
itself, a string of measuring lines, and a box of tracing 
wheels, also a pen-printed notice to the public that dress¬ 
making would be done to order, and politely inviting people 
to call. Our conspicuous sign decorated a large portion of 
the railing around the balcony and was gazed at by the 
public. 

When all preparations were completed, Addie and I waited 
with blended hopes and fears a whole week before anyone 
came to leave orders. But after the first dress was made we 
had plenty of work for both hands and brain. The styles 
were different from those of America, and I undertook to 
make a dress from v/hichever figure was selected, from either 
book or plate, with no other guide than my “system.” And 
many a sleepless hour was spent in studying out in my own 
mind how to accomplish the many difficult tasks that I did 
not hesitate to assume. Often I would work and worry over 
a difficult m.atter for hours without getting it right, and at a 
late hour lay it aside in despair. After retiring I would fall 
asleep for awhile, then wake, and of course the first distinct 
object that loomed up before my mental vision would be that 
dreadful dress. Then I would see so plainly where the mis¬ 
take was, and what was necessary to be done. It may seem 
ridiculous to some to suggest the thought that the Lord, or 
the Spirit, ever taught anyone how to do dressmaking. But 
I prayed to be so taught, not forgetting that it was accord ¬ 
ing to the instruction of what I believed to be the good Spirit 


280 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


that I had undertaken the enterprise. I also considered it 
was helping in the missionary work, and a necessity for the 
time being. And this much I know, my understanding and 
judgment in that line were quickened, so that I saw ways of 
doing my work that I knew not of before, and was enabled 
by perseverance to surmount every obstacle. 

Mr. Burton soon left us and went to Wallsend to look after 
the work in that vicinity. To say we were lonesome when 
evening came, scarcely conveys all that is couched in the 
words. Had we been of a timid nature we might have be¬ 
come gray-headed in a single night. The place was haunted 
with the largest rats I ever saw, and their noise at nights was 
like men tramping about. The sultry weather made it neces¬ 
sary to have our bedroom doors open, and those rats had a 
mania for bringing old bones from some where and piling 
them up on the mat in front of Addie’s bed. But the quarrel¬ 
some loafers around the dramshop just across the way were 
more of a terror to us in the day time than the rats were in 
the night. 

There were no Saints except Brother and Sister Ellis, their 
daughter Lizzie, and Brother Morris who lived near enough 
to drop in occasionally, and so the time wore heavily until 
Mr. Burton’s return. More so, because through some mis¬ 
understanding in regard to our address we failed to get any 
letters from America until three months after our arrival. 
They had remained in the city post office unknown to us, and 
from thence were sent to the dead letter office. Being by 
that time so famished for news from the dear ones left be¬ 
hind, and also to see some familiar face, even if it were only 
that of the officers of the steamship, upon hearing that the 
Australia was coming up the harbor, we all went down to 
greet her coming, she being the one we had gone to Australia 
in. How like home everything looked on board the ship. We 
had become the best acquainted with the chief engineer on 
our voyage out; being at his table, we therefore had more 
claim on his attention than of the other officers. He seemed 
very much pleased to see us again, and upon asking if we 
were pleasantly situated, I replied, “Quite pleasantly, but 
not mcc.” 

“You might have been nice** he replied, “if I had succeeded 
in finding you before the ship sailed the last time. When my 
wife made up her mind to go to America with me, my first 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


281 


thought was to find you folks if I could, and get you to come 
and live in our house to take care of things; it should not 
have cost you a cent, and you could have had the use of all 
that was there. And when I could not find anyone who knew 
of you, I advertised in two papers, but failed to find you.” 

We were quite surprised at this manifestation of confidence, 
deeming it quite unusual that a business man would have 
trusted so much on so short an acquaintance, and thanked 
him for the same. 

“Well,” said he, “I had just that confidence in you folks 
that I should not have hesitated to trust my house and all 
there was in it to your care, believing that everything would 
be as well cared for as if we were there ourselves, and 
would rather have done so than to have shut it up.” 

We learned that he had a beautiful residence. 

It was while Mr. Burton was at Newcastle and Wallsend, 
about six months later, that the war spirit which had been 
brewing between England and Russia assumed a more threat¬ 
ening attitude. The daily papers teemed with the war scare. 
Preparations were being rapidly made for self-defense in 
both city and harbor. And as the cablegrams from the 
mother country became more and more exciting, people drew 
their moneys from the banks until there was almost a panic 
in seeking safety. And there we two poor souls were all 
alone, not knowing more than a dozen people in that great 
city, and the residence of only one family. How we wished 
the husband and father would return! For should war be 
declared, there would be no egress nor ingress to the harbor, 
and there was no overland route at that time. It may well be 
imagined that fervent petitions ascended daily to the Father, 
that the war cloud would be averted. Fuel was added to the 
flame, so to speak, when a ship came in from sea reporting 
having seen, in the nighttime, “two mysterious crafts, sup¬ 
posed at once to be Russian cruisers; one appeared to be 
giving chase for awhile, then went in another direction.” 
Consequently all Sydney expected war would be declared 
within twenty-four hours, and so said the papers. 

We were then in receipt of a letter from Joseph, telling us 
to come to Newcastle on the Saturday night boat, and he 
would meet us Sunday morning at Wallsend. We were going 
in company with Brother Morris, but that was Thursday, and 
a great deal might take place before Saturday evening. How - 


282 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


fervently we wished to be out of Sydney! But we were not 
there on our own business, consequently I felt a greater claim 
on the Master’s care, more of a right—if such could be—^to 
“lean hard,” and did so. In a few minutes after reading the 
above news of the day, I felt as if I must go at once and 
talk with the Father about it, and so I retired to my room. 
From the moment I closed the door I felt to be in divine 
presence. There was no eloquent prayer, or wrestling and 
pleading with the Lord, but just a quiet talk, as though I 
was indeed in the presence of a loving Father, who was not 
only able to succor in every time of need, but also willing. 
And all my disquiet was soothed by these words, “There shall 
be no war.” I arose comforted, and more than comforted. 
I felt highly favored to be in possession of the most im¬ 
portant news that could be conveyed to Sydney at that hour, 
and that from the true headquarters. How I would have 
liked to soothe many another aching heart, or at least, terri¬ 
fied brain. But who would believe “our report”? No! such 
was not given to be proclaimed; they must bide their time. 
As for us, our slumbers were not disturbed by the fears of 
being surprised by an armed host. But being so lonely, we 
were glad indeed when with a bang we drew the great door 
to behind us at nine o’clock in the evening, the hollow sound 
of which fairly made us shudder to think of the dismalness 
that was shut up within, and made our way with valises in 
hand, to the tram station across the street, and were soon 
moving along towards King Street, where we were to join 
Brother Morris, and thence to the pier and boarded the 
steamer, which left at eleven o’clock at night. I believe we 
had a rough passage,—was told so in the morning,—^but knew 
very little about it in the night. We were in the ladies’ cabin, 
where the stewardess attended to the sick ones, Addie in¬ 
cluded, so I allowed myself to sleep. 

The Saints of Wallsend and vicinity received us with open 
arms and open hearts also. We had only intended to make 
a visit with them, but they insisted on our locating in their 
midst, to which we cheerfully agreed. To be once more in a 
country place, where one could inflate the lungs with some¬ 
thing like cool air, at least outdoor air, away from the noise 
and clatter of the city, the shrill quavering whistle of the 
tram conductor, and from the gaze of the cabman whose 
stand was at the lamp-post in front of our doors and who al- 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


283 


ways sat with his face towards us, was a pleasing thought. 
Here we had the advantages of social companionship of the 
Saints, of whom there was a nice group of young people, and 
some of them fine singers. We also had better advantages 
for gospel work. Therefore it was arranged that Mr. Burton 
should return to Sydney the following week and bring our 
household goods. We were located for a time in one pari 
of Brother and Sister Haworth’s house, and were most kindly 
treated by them, and by all the Saints of Wallsend, New¬ 
castle and Hamilton. After awhile we rented a cottage 
nearer the town of Wallsend, and continued the work of 
dressmaking, but not to rush so with it as we did in Sydney; 
we did it simply for profitable entertainment when not oc¬ 
cupied in what pertained to missionary work. 

Addie found a sister indeed, in young Sister Alice Gregory, 
and they took much comfort in each other’s society. Allie 
was a real live Saint, and a good girl. She now is a good 
woman. Sometimes the husband and father was with us, and 
sometimes he was in Forster, Nambucca, or Victoria. The 
last-named place he visited last. A good interest was soon 
awakened in Hastings, and he decided to remain in Victoria 
six months at least, and by invitation of the Saints of Queens- 
ferry, we packed and stored our furniture in one room of 
Amrom Lewis’s house and went to Victoria also, dividing our 
time between Hastings,—where a branch of the church was 
soon built up,—Queensferry, the “Mills,” and Mount Eden. 
At all these places we were indeed kindly cared for. 

At the “Mills” we fairly suffered in consequence of Brother 
and Sister Flemming’s good will and generosity. Sister 
Flemming had no children, and took us under her wing in a 
very motherly way, and seemed never better pleased than 
when we were eating something; and there was such an 
abundance of mulberries, cherries, blackberries, currants, 
gooseberries, plums, peaches, and nice apples; and there being 
no market for the berries nor the cherries, and it seemed 
such a pity to see them go to waste, and that too, where 
there was cream to be used without stint, that we exerted 
ourselves to take care of all we could. Besides these, there 
was plenty of milk, butter, and eggs, green com, green peas, 
and new potatoes. The memory of the quantities of all these 


284 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


things that we “took care of,” is “painfully pleasing” out 
here in these canned food regions.^ 

I remember a little piece of pleasantry I had with Sister 
McIntosh at one time, when we had just returned from the 
“Mills,” having Sister Flemming with us. 

“Well,” said Sister McIntosh, “how have you enjoyed your 
visit at the ‘Mills^?” 

“Very much, indeed!” I answered; “but oh”—and suiting 
the tone and the visage to the words—“I suffered dreadfully 
up there.” 

“Ah! indeed!” exclaimed she, with wide open eyes of 
motherly anxiety, while Sister Flemming gave looks of sur¬ 
prise as if it were news to her, “what seemed to be the 
matter?” 

“I don^t know just what.; I think there were many causes, 
but the result was a distressing fullness all the time.” And 
not being able to look sufficiently serious any longer, she be¬ 
gan to understand, and her anxiety gave place to merriment, 
in which we all joined. 

It seemed always to be fruit season at Sister Flemming’s; 
and at Mount Eden, too, though not such a variety. At Queens- 
ferry we were treated generously to the fruit of Brother 
Stewart’s well-filled dry goods store. 

Now for a glance at the other side, by way of illustrating 
the principle of giving “a cup of cold water.” We were at 
Brother Jones’s at Hastings. It was near four p. m., and we 
were about ready to go to Somerville, where Mr. Burton 
had an appointment for the evening, and we proposed re¬ 
maining for a day or two. I felt very faint and hungry, and 
wished fervently that I had a home of my own, where I 
could go to the cupboard and get something to eat. Some¬ 
thing must have whispered it to Brother Jones, for he turned 
to his wife and said, “Mary Ann,”—^I think that was her 
name,—“can’t you give them a cup of cocoa and some bread 
and butter before they go?” 

“Yes,” she replied, “if they would care to have it.” 

Both looked to me for a reply. I said, “I did not like the 
thought of causing Sister Jones the extra trouble, but really, 
I know of nothing that I would appreciate more at the pres- 


^The islands where we were while writing. 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


285 


ent time.” I will here say that the memory of that cup of 
cocoa and the gratitude I experienced when receiving it are 
among the things that will remain when many other and 
greater gifts have passed into forgetfulness. This reminds 
me of another instance, that is not altogether foreign to 
missionary life, when we were almost strangers in Hastings, 
had been there two weeks, perhaps. Brother Jones and his 
son Evan being the only Latter Day Saints in that vicinity, 
we were located at his house. The afternoon of which I now 
write, I had been out talking latter-day doctrine or gospel 
to a lady who had become very much interested in the preach¬ 
ing, and had talked almost incessantly for four hours. 

Reader, did you ever talk Latter Day Saint doctrine till 
you felt as empty as a gourd? Well, that is the way I felt. 
And as I took a short cut across the green to Brother Jones’s 
house, the pangs of hunger seized upon me in a way that made 
my face blanch. I thought I should sink to the ground. I 
looked toward the one restaurant the village afforded, and 
wished I dared to go and order a square meal and pay for 
it, and eat it as if it belonged to me. But that would have 
made a village talk, and reflected upon the kindness of 
Brother Jones and his wife. Yet I feared we were imposing 
upon their kindness, since the wife was not a member of the 
church. But the gospel work demanded that we should 
remain still longer, and there was nowhere else to go; so 
there was nothing else to do but put my feelings of reluc¬ 
tance aside, and with as much cheerfulness as I could assume, 
Avalk into the house again as though I had a right. I had 
not been in the house many minutes when Brother Jones, 
looking earnestly at me, said in a fatherly sort of way, “Are 
you hungry?” I did not like to say I was, nor could I truth¬ 
fully say I was not; so I simply said, “Why do you ask me 
that?” 

“Because,” said he, “you look hungry.” 

“Well, if I am, I won’t be very long, for I see Sister Jones 
is getting supper, and it smells good.” She was frying some 
little fishes that were much like trout. He then said some¬ 
thing to his wife in an undertone, and judging by the well- 
rounded up platter of those fine little fishes, brown and crisp, 
he may have suggested the probable size of my appetite. 
Good, faithful Brother Jones! His life was that of a Saint 
indeed, and his rest must be glorious. 


286 BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 

Some time after returning to New South Wales, we went 
to North Forster, now Tuncurry. I shall never forget the 
feelings of peace and restful, quiet happiness I experienced 
when we were located at the home of Brother and Sister 
Wright. Such an air of order, cleanliness, and comfort per¬ 
vaded everywhere, both indoors and out. We had come from 
a coal mining town, where the grime of coal dust, smoke, and 
cinders was the order of the day. We had been living in a 
small house with another family, which though kind on the 
part of the people of the house, both parties were cramped 
for room, and had to do our cooking and eating all together. 
And again, in getting to Forster, we had been three days on 
a small schooner, tumbled about in a rough sea, lying on the 
floor, or in bunks without mattresses, and all three so seasick 
that neither could wait on the other but very little. And to 
be transported to that large, airy, clean, pleasant front room 
upstairs, not only cozy and comfortable, but elegant in its 
furniture, with a small rocker just suited to my idea of sit¬ 
ting, was like getting from earth to heaven. I remained 
there so long after getting cleaned up, that Sister Wright 
came up to see if there was anything wanting—as though 
there could be, or ever was anything wanting in that house, 
especially in regard to the missionaries. And Brother Wright 
came to bring up one of our valises, and both asked why I 
did not come down. I told them I was so comfortable, and 
the sights and scenery from the window were so pleasant, 
novel, and interesting, that I did not feel inclined to leave it. 

“You will have plenty of time to enjoy the scenery, and 
there are more rocking-chairs in the house,” said Brother 
Wright, “come on downstairs and get something to eat.” 

What happy hours, days, and weeks I spent in that room 
where, from the gothic window, there was such a variety 
to entertain the eye! 

At the water’s edge, only a few rods from the house, were 
the two busy sawmills, and lots of busy workmen; also a 
few houses to be seen, though the bulk of the village was 
back of the house. Then there were the sunbathed waters 
of the river, perhaps a quarter of a mile wide, beyond 
which could be seen a portion of the settlement of South 
Forster, and dark, high hills in the background. And 
out at the mouth of the river were the untiring breakers, 
that rolled in over the bar. Small schooners came and went 
frequently, and it was the most interesting of all, even ex- 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 287 

citing to watch the tugboat go out over the rollers and bring 
in the vessels, or take them out after having loaded near the 
mills. There was busy life to be seen everywhere, and no 
opportunity for one to become dull or lonesome. Addie had 
a single room to herself, which included one of the three 
gothic windows. There, as elsewhere, she took a share in 
the work the same as of the family, for Sister Wright’s 
family was large, and there was plenty of work to do, but 
it was so systematically done, and so many conveniences for 
the doing, that it took from it the part that makes work 
drudgery. 

To say we were kindly treated by all in the village, and 
especially by Brother and Sister Wright, scarcely conveys all 
I desire to express. More than once Sister Wright came to 
our room with her arm full of goods from the store for me 
to make up for ourselves. Brother Wright was doing a 
flourishing business and had many men in his employ, whose 
families about constituted the village. All loved and honored 
him. And to know that an elder of the church he belonged 
to was going to preach, was sufficient to secure a congrega¬ 
tion. Brother and Sister Wright were the only members in 
Forster when we went there, but others soon became inter¬ 
ested, and came in behalf of themselves. 

I love to think over the many pleasant visits with the good 
people of the village, giving them the benefit of what expe¬ 
rience I had in the latter-day work; yes, and how I often 
ran in to Sister Colvin’s and got some of her experience in 
sewing work, she being the dressmaker. But the latter-day 
work, the restored gospel, was uppermost in the minds of 
all, and one after another requested baptism, until an inter¬ 
esting branch of the church was built up, embracing nearly 
the entire village. Upon one Sunday, twenty-four candi¬ 
dates were baptized before Elder Burton came up out of the 
water. 

After the branch was organized, the Sunday school was 
remodeled. It had hitherto been a union school, I believe. 
Those who represented different faiths became united in the 
one faith, and the school became a union school indeed, after 
the order of the Latter Day Saints; the most interesting 
Sunday school of its size I ever attended. And our mothers’ 
prayer meetings were sources of spiritual enjoyment to all. 

All these things did not take place during our first visit at 
Forster; we were there three times. 


CHAPTER 16 


F rom Forster we went to Argents Hill, eight miles be¬ 
yond Nambucca, into a hill country indeed, where we 
found more good souls, and enjoyed a lengthy visit with 
them. We made our home at Sister Argent’s, but were at 
Sister Ballard’s a good share of the time, and visited with 
all the Saints, even Brother and Sister Buckman, v/ho lived 
six miles up the creek. We had dreaded the going on ac¬ 
count of the heat, there being no other way to go but to 
walk. The day was eventually appointed, Joseph and 1—Ad- 
die declining the undertaking—going as far as Sister Bal¬ 
lard’s the evening before, which took two miles from the 
next day’s walk. 

The day bid fair to be exceedingly warm. I arrayed my¬ 
self in a light brown linen suit, the coolest I had, and we 
started forth comparatively early, but oh, how the sun poured 
down on us! There was no real road to this place. We fol¬ 
lowed a trail, which took us through a piece of woods. What 
a relief it was to be sheltered from the heat of the sun! We 
were nearly famishing for a drink of water, but no cool 
spring was found. As we journeyed on, the woods became 
more dense, and the heat oppressive. There was not a breath 
of air stirring, and the mosquitoes were “a circumstance.” 
How they sang for joy with such abundant prospects for a 
good meal. There were a whole picnic of them in waiting, 
and we were made twice glad by getting out of the woods 
again. We were then at the deepest crossing of the river, 
where a large eucalyptus tree had very obligingly fallen 
across it, forming a natural bridge; its circumference af¬ 
forded a width of perhaps three feet or more upon which to 
walk. It had evidently fallen at a time of freshet, when the 
dirt was washed from the roots with the caving of the bank, 
for a great portion of the gnarled and twisted roots had 
toppled over from the huge disk-like body, and extended 
several feet along one side of the trunk, at one place form¬ 
ing a complete rustic chair, partly overhanging the water, 
yet so that one’s feet would rest comfortably on the side of 
the fallen tree. There were other resting places on this mass 
of dry, bleached crags, but none so perfect as this one. As 
we passed from the river bank on the natural bridge, the light 
zephyr that fanned our red-hot faces was received with as 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


289 


deep an of welcome as was the shadow of the woods, 

and we stood for a moment facing the breeze, reinflating our 
lungs with the slightly cool air. 

Knowing before we started that we would present a limp 
appearance on our arrival, I had put a white shirt for Mr. 
Burton, together with clean handkerchiefs and neck fixings 
for us both, also my crochet work, in a large handkerchief. 
This bundle Joseph had slipped upon his arm and carried 
his coat on the same arm, so as to have one hand free to 
fight the mosquitoes. He let his coat drop at his feet, and 
sank down in the rustic chair with a manifest degree of ap¬ 
preciation. I still stood with a large parasol over my head 
and a small knit shawl in one hand, drinking in the cool air 
and talking of how lovely and cooling the water looked, with 
its clean, pebbly bottom, and said, “How I would like to go 
into it.” It had become proverbial with the Saints of Ar¬ 
gents Hill, that I got whatever I wished for, but it was not 
remembered at that moment. Seeing Joseph was enjoying 
his resting place so well, I said, “Well, if you are going to 
sit there, I may as well sit as stand,” and suiting the act to 
the words, I tilted myself sideways on another rustic seat in 
that network of crags just back of Joseph, and as I did so, 
there came a crash, a swift passage downward, a splash, and 
I had my wish. When the crash came I suppose I must have 
closed my eyes, for I do not remember to have seen anything, 
but was sensible of the upper portion of my body settling 
back too far to be plumb, and of making an effort to thrust 
it forward. Doubtless it was owing to that effort and keep¬ 
ing hold of the parasol that caused me to alight on my feet, 
just as squarely as a cat would have done. The water, how¬ 
ever, was up to my waist. Joseph’s feet were resting on 
the edge of the prostrate tree, and when his chair dropped 
from under him, he dropped in the same posture, the toes of 
his shoes scraping down around the side of the round bridge. 
He, too, made a lurch forward, and his hands were in the 
place his feet had just left; but there was nothing to hold 
to, and he simply drew marks with his finger nails as he slid 
downward. And that was the position he was in when I had 
brushed the splases of water from my eyes sufficiently to see. 
I was standing just a little back of him, and for a second or 
two I gazed at him without speaking; for I thought it was I 
only, that had fallen, and then wondered how he could sit 


290 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


there without going to the bottom. Presently the whole un¬ 
lucky affair dawned on my mind, and I said, “Why, we are all 
wet!’’ That was the first he knew but what I was under water, 
since he had heard neither word nor motion, and was think¬ 
ing, as he afterward said, of what a dreadful thing it would 
be if I should drown before he could render assistance. When 
I spoke he looked over his shoulder and seeing that I was 
standing there all right, asked if I could help him, as his 
feet were caught fast in something under the log, and he 
could not recover them. I saw he was gradually settling, 
and that the water would be over his head if he went to the 
bottom. I quickly drew in the umbrella that I still uncon¬ 
sciously held over my head, and laid it on top of the water, 
that being the only place there was to lay it. Just then 
Joseph said he was all clear. But that umbrella lost no time 
in going to the bottom, and I dipped water in my ears diving 
for it, then failed to get it until I fished it up with a stick. 

To some the situation might have been very annoying, but 
to us it took the ludicrous form; and we laughed merrily at 
our ridiculous plight of going visiting with our clothes cling¬ 
ing to us in that style; and more than all, it seemed such an 
awkward affair that children of our age should tumble into 
the river. I was about to say, “What a good thing it was 
that I brought some dry clothes along,” when I saw the 
bundle still pending to Joseph’s arm and the water stream¬ 
ing from it, which provoked a fresh peal of laughter as I 
tried to say, “Why didn’t you leave those clean clothes on 
the bridge?” “I did not know I was coming here, or I 
should have left myself on the bridge,” was his reply. 

Our plunge bath cooled us off nicely, and knowing the 
river abounded with leeches, we made haste to get out, which 
did not look to be a very easy matter. The water was too 
deep in the middle of the stream for me to wade to the other 
side. The river bank on the side we were was too high for 
us to think of climbing; besides, there was such a network of 
old crags and driftwood of all kinds, that we could not get 
to it; but by going as near as we could, and making a step 
of Joseph’s hand, together with much clinging and climbing, 
I at length regained the top, with much merriment, having 
dropped back once into the water again. Joseph waded 
across. After wringing what water I could from the bot¬ 
tom of my clothes, as I stood in them, I took off the linen 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


291 


overskirt, wrung it and shook the wrinkles out, laid it 
smoothly over a green rod Joseph had cut for the purpose, 
and with it hung over my shoulder to dry, I started on again, 
leaving Joseph a little in the rear to wring his stockings, and 
draw the three leeches from his ankles, which was no easy 
matter before they had gotten their fill. The linen overskirt 
soon dried, and I put it on again, to look as presentable as 
possible under the circumstances. 

We were late, of course, and as soon as we got in sight 
of the house, saw the sister standing in the door looking for 
us. I had thought our adventure would be a very amusing 
surprise; but as soon as we were near enough to converse, 
her first words were, “There, you have fallen into the river, 
just as I feared! I have been worrying all the morning, for 
I felt as if you were going to fall into the river.” 

Now I did not mind giving them a real surprise, but at 
once resented the idea of her thinking we were not capable 
of taking care of ourselves, despite the fact that we had not 
done so. Yet she had not thought of the accident taking 
place at that particular crossing, there being several where 
the water was quite shallow, at one of which the poles were 
inclined to roll when stepped on, and she had sometimes been 
tripped by them and thrown on her side. 

The day was so warm we thought our clothes would soon 
dry as we wore them, but the good sister insisted on us 
donning their Sunday suits. The clothes did not exactly fit; 
there was too much of them in some ways, and in other ways 
not enough. But this was not a city, where there was likely 
to be callers, we thought, but the day was an unlucky one; 
we had not the nicely cooked chicken more than half eaten, 
when in walked Brother Ballard and his youngest son, Robert, 
a young man. It seemed that Sister Ballard also had bodings 
of ill befalling us, not that she expected us to take a plunge 
bath; but of our possibly taking a wrong trail, since there 
were several, and if not getting lost in the “bush,” might have 
a very long tramp and suffer from thirst. And since 
Brother Ballard was going somewhat in that direction, she 
urged him to go a couple of miles out of his way to see if 
we had arrived at our destination. Our adventure was fun 
for Rob. But Brother Buckman could not believe we had 
fallen in at that place, though our description answered to 
it. He affirmed that we could not have done so without 


292 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


breaking our necks or some of our limbs on the rocks and 
old crags so thickly strewn on the lower side where we went 
in; and even if we had escaped those accidents, we could not 
have gotten out again; and he thought we must have come 
by some other way where there was a big tree across the 
river. So when the eventide came, and the clothes had been 
dried, pressed, and replaced, he and Joseph walked together 
to the historic place, that he might be fully satisfied. I had 
noted at the time that we had alighted in the only place 
where there was not some encumbrances, and it seemed won¬ 
derful that the debris which went with us had not entangled 
or tripped us. 

As they were returning by another way, Brother Buckman 
pointed out some begonia, commonly called gungiboy, that 
grew at the edge of the stream, and seeing Joseph had not 
become acquainted with its fiery nature, he dug up a piece 
and told Joseph to touch it with his tongue, and see how 
hot it was. He did so rather more liberally than the brother 
intended, and found it burned worse than a live coal, and 
his tongue soon began to swell. As the brother had to wan¬ 
der about some for his cows, Joseph thought best to leave 
him and go directly to the house. He was soon suffering 
intense agony; his tongue had swollen clear out of his 
mouth, and the saliva was dropping from it like one with 
hydrophobia. He said he believed it was going to cause his 
death, so made his way to the main traveled trail, where he 
would more easily be found, and laid down on the ground, 
fairly writhing with pain. But the fire abated after awhile, 
and by the time he got to 1 le house, he could get his tongue 
in his mouth again. The brother had not thought of the 
effect being so severe. 

When we got back to Brother Ballard’s the next evening, 
there being a large family of young people, and Joseph re¬ 
lated in glowing terms all the circumstances of our adventure, 
the house rang with peals of laughter (it seems as if I can 
see Sister Ballard now shaking all over) ; and for a week or 
more, to say anything about our visit to Brother Buclonan’s 
was food for merriment. 

There was no mercantile establishment in that region 
nearer than Nambucca, a small town eight miles distant. 
The men and women often went shopping, but always on 
riding horses, which on the return trip might well have been 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


293 


called pack horses. Now I was very fond of riding on 
horseback, and as we were in need of renewing our supply 
of stationery, both husband and I thought it would be a nice 
change for us to take a ride out to town, and select for our¬ 
selves. The Saints were quite willing to furnish us horses; 
and since no one likes to ride a stupid-looking horse, I chose 
the nicest looking one; she was gentle, but spirited and some¬ 
what nervous. It was a lovely morning that we started off 
for our long ride; but since our road consisted of a succes¬ 
sion of long steep hills, we only once broke into a canter, 
the horses being trained to fast walking. We arrived all 
right and made our few purchases, and returned to our 
horses again, but mine did not stand quietly for me to get 
into the saddle. Joseph seeing he would have to hold her by 
the head, went back in the store to get a box for me to step 
up on. Having no box, the storekeeper handed him a new 
wood bottomed chair, and not wishing to deface the new 
chair, I made a very light step on it, and sprang for the 
saddle; but the filly had stepped sideways from me before 
I grasped the horns of the saddle, the chair tipped forward 
and I tumbled. In the struggle the chair back was broken 
out—nobody knows how—then I landed on my side on the 
ground, striking the corner of the stone stoop, which cut 
the flesh open to the bone from the comer of the left eye up 
into the brow, and I lay motionless while a small purple 
stream trickled down the side of the stoop. I was not 
altogether unconscious, but was so badly hurt that it took 
from me all power of speech or motion, and I remained so 
until I had been raised up and a folded towel, wet in ice cold 
water, was pressed over the wound to check the profuse 
bleeding. This caused such dreadful pain, it was responded 
to by a deep groan, and consciousness and power of motion 
returned. 

In less than an hour after having applied a strip of court- 
plaster, we started back again. I confess I felt rather shaky 
in the saddle, but there was no other way of getting back. 
My face began to swell badly and get very black about the 
eye. With difficulty we reached Sister McKay's, about half 
way to Argents Hill. I could go no farther. The hurt eye 
was closed up entirely, and so completely swollen over, one 
could scarcely discern where the eye was. We let Addie know 
where we were and what had happened, and remained at 


294 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


Sister McKay’s two days. It was a week or more before that 
eye was again open, and I began to think the blackness was 
never going away. It was evident that the fore part of the 
skull was cracked. I wear the scar yet, but it is so exactly 
in line with the brow that it is scarcely noticeable. 

Yet we have many pleasant memories of our visit among 
those gigantic hills. There was no rush and hurry of work 
in those good old-fashioned homes, nor was there any time 
spent in idleness, neither were we idle among them. Mis¬ 
sionary work has many branches; like the religion we endeav¬ 
ored to teach, it can not be disconnected with everyday life. 
And speaking for myself, I endeavored to do “the duty that 
lay nearest,” whether of a spiritual or a temporal nature, 
and was blessed in all. There were plenty of young girls, 
and all wanted a dress cut by that “system”; and the new 
dresses seemed to get themselves made as if by magic.^ 

Sister Agnes Ballard will not forget how the terrible pain 
in her face and teeth would give way when the missionary’s 
wife called upon the Lord in her behalf. And doubtless 
Sister Argent remembers too—if still living—^the many pleas¬ 
ant and profitable hours we used to have with the Herald. 
And thus the allotted time for our stay passed away all too 
quickly, and the sad hour of parting came. It was unusually 
sad, because of our never expecting to return; and many 
were the tokens of love bestowed upon us at the parting hour. 

Most of the last year of our stay in Australia was spent in 
Victoria. We kept house in Hastings, but were often at 
Queensferry and adjacent places. We organized a Sunday 
school in Hastings, and in due time treated the children to a 
Christmas tree, the first one I think that had ever been in 
Hastings, and really it was worth looking at, but whether it 
was worth all it cost, I know not. In Hastings the Lord, 
in his condescending goodness, blessed the efforts put forth 
by the writer, in behalf of both the sick and the afflicted. 
Sister Anderson was sadly afflicted with rheumatism of the 
sciatic nerve. She was both treated and tortured a length 
of time at Melbourne hospital, not being able to leave her 


^While the girls kept our mouths cooled with the most de¬ 
licious lemonade I ever drank from fresh lemons right from 
the trees. 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


295 


bed. At length she was told by the physicians that they 
could do nothing to help her, that her case was hopeless, and 
that she would never be any better. By her urgent request 
she was taken from the hospital to her home to die, as she 
thought. We visited at her house often, that is, called and 
talked with her. She had been administered to several times, 
and prayed for by many; and had so far recovered, while 
investigating the claims of the gospel, that she was able to 
go to meeting several times and to walk to her baptism, but 
not without limping and the help of a walking stick. But 
the walk was too far for her strength. The bone of her leg 
had become softened through the disease and the use of mer¬ 
cury in the treatment, that she again became bedridden, suf¬ 
fering constantly. The pain resisted all efforts to dispel it. 

One day while I was sitting with her she asked me to pray 
for her. I did so, and felt that we ought not to be discour¬ 
aged if the Lord did not heal immediately; that we should 
continue our efforts in faith, and he would heal gradually, if 
we did not slacken in our diligence. And I made such known 
to her, and also agreed to come to her every morning at 
seven o’clock—we lived quite near—and pray for her. And 
for six weeks I went every morning at the appointed hour, 
sometimes through pouring rain and sometimes almost mir¬ 
ing in mud. She gradually got better, and at length con¬ 
cluded she was about all right. People who knew her at 
the hospital could scarcely believe their own eyes when they 
saw her tripping along the street, looking so rosy and well 
again. And she was plied with questions by those who had 
relatives still suffering in the hospital, to know who was 
the physician, and what was the medicine or process of treat¬ 
ment by which the was made well, adding that money was no 
object if they could secure the same. But when she would 
give her answer that it required no money, that God was the 
physician, belief in and obedience to the gospel was the medi¬ 
cine, and faith and prayers the process of treatment, they 
turned away sorrowful. I believe the healing was permanent. 
I have heard from her several times as being actively en¬ 
gaged keeping a boarding house, but never have heard of the 
affliction returning. 

During the time of Sister Anderson’s recovery, I was 
called upon in behalf of one who was not a member of the 
church, a Mrs. Davis, who was very sick with what they 


296 


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called bronchitis. The doctor lived at a distance, and only 
came when sent for. He had been to see her the day I 
speak of, and had given very little hopes of her recovery— 
said she might live with very careful nursing. These people 
were not particularly favorable to the latter-day work, but 
were intimate friends of Brother and Sister Rennie, and it 
was through their influence that I was sent for. Sister Rennie 
having been healed only a few days before. They would not 
think of sending for the elders of our church, but were will¬ 
ing that a missionary woman should come in and pray with 
the sick. So Sister Rennie came in her buggy to take me 
to her house. When she made known her request, I turned 
to Joseph and asked if I had better go. “Yes,” he said, “if 
you feel like it.” Kneeling by the bed, holding one of her hands, 
I prayed for her, and after doing what I could to make her 
comfortable for the night, she said she felt much better. 
This was on a Saturday about dark. Perceiving the daugh¬ 
ters were not accustomed to nursing, I went to see her early 
Sunday morning, taking a dish of tasty gruel. Found her 
much better. On Monday she began to sit up, and on 
Thursday of the same week, was out of doors again. This 
did not cause them to accept the gospel, but made a very 
friendly feeling towards us personally. 

I assure you, my readers, I shrink at times from bearing 
these testimonies. It seems too great a blessing for one 
so erring as I, to even be the “clay” by which others are 
healed, or the instrument through which others receive such 
blessings. I feel entirely unworthy of such favor, and fully 
realize that all the honor, the power, and the glory belong 
to God; that of myself I am nothing, but bear these testi¬ 
monies that others may have faith in God. My very nothing¬ 
ness serves in this connection to encourage other imperfect 
ones to have faith in God and in prayer. Were it so that 
God’s rich blessings were bestowed alone upon the great 
ones, and those high in authority, the weak ones and the 
simple would have little encouragement to “covet earnestly 
the best gifts,” and might well think the All-Father was 
partial in his dealings with his children. 

But to return to my narrative. Some three months prior 
to our breaking up housekeeping preparatory to returning 
to America, we were joined by Brother and Sister T. W. 
Smith, who came from the Society Islands, and abode with 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


297 


us while we remained in Hastings. It was during the con¬ 
ference which convened in Hastings shortly after their ar¬ 
rival that Mr. Burton was ordained to the office of seventy. 
Before Brother Smith laid his hands on Joseph’s head he 
prayed in his simple, matter-of-fact way when desiring some 
special favor, that the Lord would permit an angel to be 
present and assist in the ordination, since there was no man 
present holding the proper authority to lay on hands with 
him. During the ordination Brother Smith spoke with much 
liberty and feeling, and evidently by the spirit of prophecy. 
Among other statements was, th^ he—Josephs—was about to 
return to his native land, but would not remain there long. 
He would again cross the ocean, and that he would yet 
do a greater work than that which he had done. 

While eating supper at our house that evening. Brother 
Smith laid his knife and fork on his plate, and looking at 
Joseph, said, “You had some experience during your ordina¬ 
tion that you are keeping back; now I want to know what 
it was.” Then Joseph testified to having distinctly felt at 
that time two pairs of hands on his head. 

After conference came the sad breaking up and parting 
with many who had become very dear to us in Hastings, 
Queensferry, and Geelong. In the last-named place Joseph 
had been the first to introduce the gospel, and had raised 
up a promising little branch of church workers. We went 
to New South Wales to make our good-by visits there also; 
most of which time was spent in North Forster, where we 
had some of the best meetings of our mission. The Sunday 
before the last one spent in Forster was one long to be 
remembered by many. Mr. Burton took the opportunity of 
preaching his farewell sermon to the people of Forster, for 
the next Sunday would be during conference. This notice 
having been given out the previous Sunday, a large congre¬ 
gation assembled, friends as well as members. His sermon 
was like a summing up of gospel truths as taught in this 
latter-day dispensation, and showing the scripture evidence 
of those truths. His discourse led him to speak of how the 
gospel won its way eighteen hundred years ago, and of the 
marvelous outpouring of the Spirit on the day of Pentecost, 
and justified God in that those who witnessed those things 
and believed not were without excuse. I had felt the unmis¬ 
takable evidence of the presence of the Spirit as soon as we 


298 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


entered the house, and as the preacher spoke of the Holy 
Spirit descending like a mighty rushing wind, filling the 
whole house and those who were therein, it carried me in 
Spirit to the scene, and so vividly, too, that for the moment 
it was as though I was really present with them, and became 
so filled with the Spirit that I was about to rise to my feet 
and give utterance to it; but remembering it was a preaching 
meeting, I sought to reason myself quiet, by saying. It is 
not wisdom that I should speak, and thus interrupt the 
servant of God while preaching the gospel, for the Spirit is 
with him; but before I was aware of it, I was on my feet 
giving utterance to the surging power within. Never did 
the gift of tongues rest upon me in greater force, neither had 
I ever spoken with greater assurance, though I knew not the 
words. Mr. Burton stood silently while they were being 
spoken, and then gave the interpretation, a part of which 
was: “The same gospel that Peter preached on the day of 
Pentecost is now being preached in your midst by one having 
the same authority to make the same promise that Peter 
made to the people on that day, and the same Spirit that was 
poured out upon the people on that day is this day made 
manifest in your hearing; therefore, those who hear the 
word and witness this manifestation, will be as much without 
excuse in the day of judgment, as were those on the day of 
Pentecost who saw, and heard, and believed not.” 

After having given the interpretation, the preacher said, 
“That is the point I intended to have made, but the Spirit 
has testified to it in my stead, and in even stronger terms 
perhaps than I would have used.” Then he continued his 
discourse, not so much perhaps in reasoning from the past 
as evidence of the truth of the present work, as in showing 
the complete harmony which existed between the latter-day 
gospel and that in the days of the apostles; and endeavored 
to fasten upon the minds of the congregation—not more than 
half of which were Saints—^the great importance and the 
glory of the latter-day work. Both the tongue and the in¬ 
terpretation made a solemn impression on the people, and 
they listened as if spellbound during the remainder of the 
service. As for me, I felt as if a coal of fire had been taken 
from the altar and laid on my heart; and the flame kindled 
thereby continued to ascend and spread with its pleasant yet 
distinct burning sensation during the entire day, and lingered 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


299 


until the third day of the week. I was not satisfied at the 
close of the morning meeting. 

It did not seem to me that the operation of the Spirit was 
fully accomplished for that time, but was suspended for a 
little, and was therefore reluctant to leave the house. I de¬ 
sired rather to remain in divine presence, to be in a position 
for the Spirit’s power to abide with us longer, since no other 
meeting was anticipated for that day or evening, on ac¬ 
count of dark nights, and upon that occasion both foggy and 
rainy. Many of the congregation of the morning had come 
across the river in boats, and those in wagons came quite a 
distance down the river, over roads that were not intended 
for night traveling. I knew all this, but took the liberty, at 
the close of the meeting, to ask the branch president—Brother 
Wright—privately, if we could not have a prayer meeting 
that evening. He spoke of those disadvantages, but I plead 
that we might have one among ourselves, even if none others 
came; so he consented, and gave notice before the people 
dispersed. 

We usually returned to Brother Wright’s after meeting 
with a good appetite, and a joyousness that begat a desire to 
be, and communicate with each other; but this day it was 
different with me at least, for though I felt indescribably 
happy, I had no desire for either hearing or taking part in 
conversation. Words seemed out of harmony with the bet¬ 
ter enjoyment of the silent influence of the Spirit within. 
Neither had I any desire to eat, but felt as if I had already 
partaken of food. This was so real, I said within myself, 
“Is this the bread that cometh down from heaven?” and was 
a little surprised at the immediate and distinct answer, “Yes, 
if you will receive it as such.” And now I wonder why I 
did not understand those words and abide without other food, 
and thus give opportunity for the Spirit to have its perfect 
work. It seems always to be my failing not to make the most 
of present opportunities, and so it was at this time; I pre¬ 
ferred to remain without eating, but when dinner was called 
I went with the rest, more to avoid being questioned than 
aught else; and though I partook lightly, was sensible of a 
loss spiritually in doing so. 

When it began to be meeting time. Brother Wright said 
to me, “This is your meeting, remember; I am not responsi¬ 
ble for it.” Neither was he very sanguine about the propriety 


300 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


of attempting to have a meeting on sueh a night. ^‘Not 
mine,” I replied. ‘T simply suggested it; you made the ap¬ 
pointment. But I am willing to take the blame if we do not 
have a good meeting.” The house was filled. Those who 
came in wagons to the morning meeting remained, and those 
who had to come in boats came before dark, bringing others 
with them; having heard of the strange happenings of the 
morning, all were eager to attend. I heard some of the 
women saying, shall be dreadfully frightened to go back 
again in the boat; but I could not think of missing the 
meeting.” They were not members of the church either. 

The gift of tongues was not manifest in the evening, but 
the power of the Spirit was no less visible in the English 
language, and seemed to accompany in varied measure all 
who spoke. The meeting was enjoyed by all more than or¬ 
dinarily,—no time lost, no hesitation; but prompt, brief, 
faithful testimonies were borne by the Saints. During this 
meeting, towards the latter part of it, a new experience came 
to me, such as I never had before, neither have I since. It 
was that of speaking the mind of another, thus, “There is 
one present, a stranger to us, but who has attended meetings 
here several times, and in his heart believes the gospel, but 
no one suspects it of him, and if he is true to the promptings 
and feelings of his heart, he will acknowledge the same.” I 
was not talking at random, trusting to its fitting some one. 
It had all been shown to me, and only knew his countenance 
by the revealments of the Spirit, and up to the time I spoke 
I had never seen him. As soon as I sat down, a stranger lo 
nearly all, who was sitting down by the door, arose, and 
taking a few steps up the aisle, said, “I am the man! I 
have chanced to be in this neighborhood several evenings 
when there was meeting. I came in quietly and unobserved 
after meeting began, sat down by the door as much out of 
sight as I could, and slipped out again when the preaching 
was over, but what I heard convinced me that it was true. 
Yes, I believe the gospel. I have not, up to this time, said 
anything of my convictions to anyone; but since the secrets 
of my heart have been revealed, I will confess that I not only 
believe, but am ready to be baptized. But I desire first to 
make these things known to my wife, so that she may accom¬ 
pany me if she will.” 

And thus ended that extraordinary day in North Forster. 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


301 


Our prayer meetings were always good in Forster; there 
seemed to be more of the Spirit’s power made manifest than 
in other places; but this one was accounted by all present to 
have been the best. 

The stranger and his wife were baptized the following 
week. And now let me add, that while I have been rehears¬ 
ing in thought the experience and spiritual manifestations of 
that memorable day, it has all been confirmed to me by the 
same warm heart-throbbing as then, only in less degree. Will 
the Spirit bear witness to others in like manner? 

During the following week the Saints from various locali¬ 
ties gathered to Forster for conference, among them the 
recently arrived missionaries from America, Elders Wight 
and Butterworth, also Brother and Sister T. W. Smith from 
Victoria, and all enjoyed the conference, shortly after which 
came the sad parting. In fact, we at Sister Wright’s had 
been more sad than joyous for a week or more, in anticipa¬ 
tion of that coming hour, until the Saints commenced to 
gather and our time and thoughts were occupied with con¬ 
ference. I scarcely knew which I most desired, to go home 
or to remain. Had I been asked the question two and a half 
years before, that is, after being in Australia about one year, 
I would have had no hesitation in saying, “home.” But I 
had lived down my homesickness and had become warmly 
attached to the people of Australia, and it was very much 
like leaving my own people. And again, since reinforcements 
in the missionary cause had come and the work would move 
on more rapidly, I desired to witness the ingathering of 
souls, both in new fields and where the gospel seed had been 
sown. But alas, Mr. Burton had not been sufficiently spar¬ 
ing of his vocal powers while sowing the good seed; had 
overtaxed them, preaching at a high pitch of voice on the 
street corners in the keen night air, then contracted a heavy 
cold, which for a time deprived him of the power of speaking 
audibly. And though he had recovered it sufficiently to talk 
moderately, we deemed it necessary, if he would have more 
years of usefulness in the ministry, to return to California, 
where there was a more even climate. 

It was on a dull, cloudy, windy morning, before the light 
of day had dispersed the gloom, that a tearful band marched 
solemnly from Brother Wright’s house to the wharf, where a 
miniature passenger boat was bobbing about on the slightly 


302 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


disturbed waters, which indicated a rough sea outside the 
bar, and took the parting hand at the water’s edge. Doubly 
sad was this parting for Brother and Sister Wright and 
family, because their son Sidney was going in company 
with us to America. By the time our little ship was ready 
to pull away from the wharf, daylight was making inroads 
through the morning fog, and before we rounded the point, 
we had a clear view of the quiet little village of Forster and 
the comfortable, hospitable home of Brother and Sister 
Wright, just as the sun was gilding it o’er. Our baby steamer 
ran along nicely while in the lee of Forster point; but as the 
day advanced, the wind and sea increased, causing both 
anxiety and discomfort. There were other passengers be¬ 
sides ourselves. But passengers were simply an auxiliary 
to this ship; her real business was in fish; and since baskets 
of fish were in every available place, there was very little 
need of having a cook on board, so far as the passengers 
were concerned. The day wore slowly away, the little ship 
being tossed and pounded by the waves. Oh, how glad we 
were to get into Newcastle harbor just as the shadows of 
evening were gathering about! 

A flying visit with Sister Ann Webster of Newcastle, and 
Brother and Sister Broadway and others of Hamilton, with 
Sister Merriett of Warrata, and the Saints at Wallsend, and 
then we took the overland—a train route scarcely completed 
—^to Sydney; where in a few days we took passage on the 
fine American steamship, Alameda, for San Francisco. 

I have but briefly sketched the events of our three and a 
half years’ mission in Australia. Space would not admit of 
my mentioning the names of all who did us kindness. But 
none are forgotten; all were kind and generous according to 
their means, and we still pray that God will bless them. 
Some have already passed on to their reward. When Brother 
Steward was called from this life to the better life beyond, the 
gospel work in Victoria lost a stanch and ready supporter, 
and the missionaries a pleasant and cheerful home and genial 
brother. His last days of intense suffering witnessed an ex¬ 
hibition of faith, patience, and endurance isuch as few 
possess. 

Our home-coming was in the month of August. The weather 
was beautiful all the voyage. We made the usual calls at 
Auckland and Honolulu. Having a little more time at Auck- 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


303 


land than on the outward voyage, we embraced the oppor¬ 
tunity to visit the crater of an old volcano on Mount Eden. 
But since we had no other guide than the cabman, we did 
not learn much of its history; but the view of the city, or 
as much of it as was open to view, and the harbor as seen 
from our elevated perch, was beautiful. 

We took our drive in the morning, and as our ship did not 
sail until four p. m., there was still time to look about the 
town. 

We did not join the company of passengers who went 
sight-seeing in Honolulu, for our purse was empty. 

After a few days’ stay in San Francisco, Addie and I, with 
bumping hearts, boarded the train for Los Angeles. Until 
then, we scarcely realized that we were getting home. A 
twenty-four hour run would take us to Los Angeles. Brother 
Sidney Wright accompanied us thither. Mr. Burton re¬ 
mained awhile longer in the city. From some accidental 
delay, there was no one to meet us when we arrived at the 
station; not one familiar face in all that crowd that moved 
to and fro, and we felt as strange and lonesome as if we had 
been in a strange land. After waiting what seemed to us 
to be a very long time, Addie started out to see if she could 
find some one. We thought perhaps they had not received 
our letter and did not know we were coming; that she would 
go to lawyer Charlie Howland’s office and learn how and 
where the folks were. But she had not gone far till she met 
Frank with a team coming for us, and returned with him. 
We had not expected to meet Frank at Los Angeles, nor was 
I prepared for the change that three years and more would 
make in the appearance of the face of a young man between 
the years of twenty-two and twenty-six, or in other words, 
how little of the face would appear. And when he and 
Addie stood in the doorway, Addie’s face fairly beaming 
with smiles, I did not know him. I knew by Addie’s face 
that it was some one with whom she was very much pleased 
to meet, and evidently expected me to be; but said within 
myself, as I went towards them, “It is not Joe Howland nor 
Charlie Howland, nor anyone that I remember, and still how 
much like home he looks.” I extended my hand, saying, 
“I will shake hands with you, but I do not know who you 
are.” 

“You don't?” he said. 


304 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


“Oh, but I do, though!” was the quick reply, and I buried 
my face in the front of his vest, and wept for joy. 

The four-mile drive out to Dorans was a pleasant one, but 
it did seem as if we would never get there; we were in such 
a hurry to see that little two-year-old granddaughter waiting 
to be introduced. And when at length we did get there, all 
were so excited and overjoyed, I think I will let the reader 
imagine just what kind of a time we had, for I am sure I 
can not describe it. One feature, though, stands prominently 
out in the midst of the confusion, that was the sumptuously 
laden breakfast table. It was then ten o’clock, and we had 
not yet breakfasted, and were prepared to do justice to it all. 

After a short visit with Dora, husband, and cute little 
Gertie, we went to Santa Ana, where, besides the friends 
we had left there was a Mrs. Frank Burton and another 
little granddaughter of five months. But after the visiting, 
when I had returned to Dora’s, Mr. Burton still in the city 
and Addie at Santa Ana, there came a reaction. Dora’s 
place and surroundings were altogether strange to me, and 
retired also. I had not been accustomed to living so apart 
from the busy world, and I was more lonesome than I had 
been for two or three years. I do not think, though, that it 
was altogether owing' to the outward environment; but we 
had come to where there must needs be a “shackle link” in the 
chain of events that make up life. Our mission was over, 
and we had returned to our native land, but had no home to 
go to. 

And again, when one starts forth on a mission, there is a 
certain strength given, an inward buoying up, a something 
more than ordinary. I have realized such, though only an 
auxiliary. If there is an extra power given for certain occa¬ 
sions, and the purpose is accomplished, I suppose it will be 
vrithdrawn again. In the prayer meeting in Laguna Canyon, 
just prior to our starting for Australia, the same elder who 
said, “I seal thee up to eternal life,” said also, “The Lord 
will give his angels charge concerning thee; they shall ac¬ 
company thee in thy going forth, and be round about thee 
both by day and by night, and thou shalt realize their pres¬ 
ence.” And from that hour there came a light, a strength, 
and a gladness in my heart, which, though in a measure ob¬ 
scured at times, was never altogether lost sight of during 
the mission, and sometimes seemed indeed like a presence. 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


305 


Is it too much to think that in very deed the Lord did comr 
mission one of his messengers in our behalf, who though un¬ 
seen, was ever present? And that personage, having faith¬ 
fully performed the part of shielding, protecting, reassuring 
when needful; giving light and understanding when much 
needed; and patience, faith, and joy ofttimes, until we had 
reached our destination in our native land, and then that 
commission ended, it had flown to the bright world from 
whence it came? At least that is the way it appeared to me. 
I was conscious of a loss; the loss of a certain happifying 
influence, and I had to adjust myself to the changed condi¬ 
tions. 

On Mr. Burton’s return from northern California, he vis¬ 
ited the old home, with a view of obtaining a final settlement 
with the purchaser, whose uncanceled notes we still held, with 
the exception of one and a half payments. The brother was 
unable to pay the notes, and wished Mr. Burton to take the 
place back again, and return to him his notes. The proposi¬ 
tion suited us well. It was indeed a happy day to me when 
I learned that we had come in possession of the old home. 
The indescribable happiness that brings with it the assur¬ 
ance that one is being led by an unseen hand, and I was 
satisfied that all was well, although the title was still in dis¬ 
pute, but has since been settled. It seems as if that place 
is a destiny to us, but as yet it has not been a financial suc¬ 
cess; we have bought it four times and only sold it once. 
First we bought it from the squatters; then from the grant 
owners; then bought it back from Brother Clapp; after 
which we found it had been sold the year before for taxes, 
so we bought it again for twenty dollars. When we believed 
we were led to leave San Benito and go south, and that 
belief was confirmed on the journey by the words to Mr. 
Burton, ‘T have sent thee forth,” the natural thought was 
that our condition would be very much improved financially, 
since the Lord made no mistakes in his choosing. But we 
have lived to learn that the leadings of the Spirit of the 
Lord are seldom in financial pursuits; but in the way that 
will be of most benefit to those who subject themselves to his 
direction. And the success of that move was to us in ob¬ 
taining an experience in spiritual things, and of being useful 
in the gospel work. Had we remained in San Benito on the 
farm, our opportunities in this line would have been very 


306 


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limited. Nor do we now know of any other locality to which 
we could then have moved, where there would have been 
the same opportunities for usefulness as sprang up around 
us in what was then called “Gospel Swamp,” and from thence 
the opportunities grew. And during this time we have lived, 
and that is about all people can do at best. And further 
than that, what we now have is our own. I do not yet know 
why the assurance was given the second time of having taken 
a step in the right direction—when we bought the place back, 
for since then it has come about that my loss of health will 
not permit me to live in that immediate vicinity, and the 
Saints have nearly all left the neighborhood; but still I can 
trust. 

At the time of regaining our place we made up our minds 
to begin then, while we knew the value of our possessions, 
to pay our tithing in a businesslike way, a tenth of all we 
possessed, or to be governed by the Bishop’s counsel. We 
therefore wrote Bishop Blakeslee, stating just what we were 
worth, how much was clear of debt, and how much was not. 
His counsel was, “Your tithing is a tenth of all your prop¬ 
erty that is clear of debt; and when the debt is paid on the 
portion you now owe for, you will then owe tithing on that.” 

We wrote him again, to place the amount of tithing we now 
owed the church treasury on his books against us, and we 
would liquidate the debt as fast as we were enabled to, by 
the blessing of God on our efforts. It looked like a pretty 
large amount to be paid in such small installments as ours 
would necessarily have to be, taking it as we did from our 
living. But little by little the debt was canceled. There is 
a pleasant sort of dignity in making those little everyday 
sacrifices that we know is our duty to make in order to ac¬ 
complish a higher purpose. Every time two or three dollars 
were sent to the Bishop, I felt as if we had taken a step on¬ 
ward and upward. While on this thought, I will say we have 
continued to observe that rule; i. e., to pay tithing on what¬ 
ever we have accumulated, besides food and clothing, as fast 
as freed from debt, and have been blessed in doing so, not 
simply the sense of doing right, but the money left goes 
farther and does more good. 

In November of the same year of our arrival from Aus¬ 
tralia, we went to San Bernardino and kept house there until 
the next summer. 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


307 


At Christmas time I paid my first visit to the old home 
place. Frank and wife were living on it at the time, and had 
sent invitations for a family gathering for the holidays. Mr. 
Burton and I were from San Bernardino, Dora and her little 
one and Addie were from Los Angeles; but it so happened 
that we all met in Santa Ana, and so were all together when 
we drove into the yard. It seemed rather strange that 
neither mother nor daughters had visited the place since we 
left for Australia, and then that all three should go home at 
once, and yet how perfectly natural that it should be so. 
What a jubilee it was! The three small “editions” contrib¬ 
uted largely to the joyousness of the occasion. 

The following autumn, being that of 1889, Mr. Burton and 
I received a kind invitation from the brethren and sisters of 
San Benito to make them a visit and spend the winter in the 
vicinity. We gladly availed ourselves of the invitation, being 
desirous of again meeting with the Saints of the place where 
we first heard and obeyed the gospel; and the more readily so, 
because the invitation was accompanied with the price of a 
railroad ticket for each. That was the memorable winter of 
heavy rains in California, floods, and washouts. Having got 
to Brother Page’s, there we stayed nearly the entire winter, 
and were most kindly cared for. Our Newport home with 
that of many others had become a river bed. All fruit trees 
were killed, and flower gardens and ornamental trees swept 
away, and the waters of the Santa Ana River continued to 
rush over it for something like two years. Of course it was 
deserted, as were many others in the vicinity. When the 
waters subsided, there remained a scene of desolation. Though 
the soil was improved, the place was untenable, therefore 
we remained in the vicinity of San Benito. 

The California reunion of the following year was held in 
Tulare, in the month of May. There was not a large gather¬ 
ing, but I do not know that I ever attended a reunion where 
there was as much of the power and influence of the good 
Spirit as was enjoyed upon that occasion. It was a con¬ 
tinual feast from beginning to end, such as the Lord is 
pleased to bestow upon his children when those who gather 
together are of one heart and one mind. There was no 
cause for jealousies or envying, neither was any such ele¬ 
ment with them; when one was honored all rejoiced, and all 
turned their hearts to God in prayer for his blessings. 


308 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


The following year was, according to Mr. Burton’s ap¬ 
pointment, spent among the good Saints of Northern Cali¬ 
fornia, and at the close of that conference year, both Mr. 
Burton and I were sent as delegates from California to 
General Conference, where I met my aged mother, who had, 
since Father’s death, united with the church, and who was 
then living with my youngest sister Ida (Mrs. J. W. Layton), 
in the State of Missouri. I scarcely need say that it was a 
great pleasure to meet my mother and sister and her house¬ 
hold, and to know that the unpopular religion that we took 
to Nova Scotia, and which they there embraced, was becom¬ 
ing dearer to them every year, or I might say, every day. 
It was gratifying to know that they had come among the peo¬ 
ple of the church we represented, and had seen, heard, and 
learned for themselves that all we had claimed for that people 
was true; that we had not taken a false report to them 
when we testified that the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ 
was again restored to the earth in its fullness, and the same 
gifts and blessings that pertained to the gospel eighteen 
hundred years ago were enjoyed among the believers in this 
restored gospel. 

After conference we returned to the coast again, Mr. Bur¬ 
ton being in charge of the Pacific Slope Mission. Nothing 
of note in our world presents itself to memory, but in the 
business world of California there was a public event which 
affected landowners, that of large tracts of land, which for 
years had been known as “railroad land,” going back to the 
Government. While this caused some to lose lands they had 
held and worked for years, perhaps, it gave opportunity for 
others who were without homes to secure them by putting 
up a cabin on an unclaimed section and living in it. Such 
opportunity came to us also, through the kindness of Brother 
E. J. Holt, of homesteading a quarter section if we chose to 
do so. And Mr. Burton chose to do so by all means, more 
especially because this claim was a portion of our first farm, 
and also because it was among the hills that were so dear to 
him, and had in a measure become sacred to him by his great 
love for them, and the happiness he had experienced wander¬ 
ing over them years ago, communing with nature and na¬ 
ture’s God. But his wife—^the writer—did not take the same 
view of the matter that he did. I recognized the kindness of 
Brother Holt in giving us the privilege of taking the claim. 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


309 


instead of holding it himself, which he could have done. I 
also admired the natural beauty of the situation and the 
view it afforded, as well as that of the surrounding country; 
and loved the Saints who dwelt there, as well as some who did 
not claim the name of Saint. But it was so very isolated for 
a permanent home, with the disadvantages of being thirty 
miles from the railroad terminus, and thirty-seven miles 
from the nearest commercial town, three miles from where 
the few Saints met to worship, and the same distance from 
the post office. We had no team or conveyance of our own, 
and I could not bear the thought of being so dependent on 
our neighbors as we necessarily would have to be. True, we 
were always more or less dependent on some one, but had 
been in the habit of changing hands often. But the deepest 
trouble was that of settling so far from the children, two 
of whom already had homes for themselves in Southern Cali¬ 
fornia, and the other one was likely to. We could never 
have a family gathering, and it might be that neither of 
them would be able to visit us there, at least for years, which 
for the time overshadowed the anticipation of coming years. 
Yet I knew it was quite necessary to have a home some¬ 
where in a less damp and foggy climate than that of our 
southern home. I was then suffering from a racking cough, 
and in much need of rest and quiet, where I could have heat 
or cold suited to the condition of my health, which had been 
sadly impaired by a severe attack of pneumonia while in 
San Bernardino, and from which I continued to feel the 
effects. I could not endure changing places of different 
temperature without having occasional sick spells, and finally 
consented to make our home there. I knew from the very 
suggestion what the result would be, but had to take time to 
bring myself to it. For however great the cross may be to 
me to go in a direction opposite to my inclination, when we 
come to a forked road in life, I never feel like taking the 
responsibility of refusing to do what my husband thinks is 
best, though I may stop and mourn over it awhile. How hard 
it is for our stubborn natures to do as we pray the Lord to 
do with us! How shortsighted is our faith! We commend 
ourselves to the Lord in all earnestness, to be directed in all 
the affairs of this life, and yet how often we rebel against 
walking in the way that opens to us, having a way of our 
own in view. 


310 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


When we had selected the site for our house, we knelt to¬ 
gether and dedicated it by prayer, that the Spirit of the Lord 
would be with us and the angel of peace abide in our home. 
Soon a little cottage went up like magic, all the brethren 
assisting in some way, and Joseph the master builder. We 
contemplated going to housekeeping immediately after Christ¬ 
mas. We were then making our home at Brother Pagers 
when not traveling. In the early autumn I had suggested 
having a Christmas tree for the children, and Zena and I— 
dear Zena, who has now gone to her long rest—busied our¬ 
selves during our spare moments in making and dressing 
dolls, and other^fancy notions. When the time came, it was 
decided to have the tree in Sister Page’s front room. We 
had lots of surprises for the children. But there were two 
grown-up children there—Joseph and Emma—who were the 
most surprised of all. I can not tell you, my reader, all that 
was on and under that Christmas tree, for the missionaries, in 
the way of handy articles for housekeeping. And there were 
two presents for them that were not on the tree, neither un¬ 
der it, because there was not room to contain them. One was a 
young cow from Sister Janie Holt, and the other was a com¬ 
bination kitchen table from all the sisters combined and one 
who was not a sister in the church, a Mrs. Blosser, I be¬ 
lieve it was, who first suggested the thought. And in a few 
days after we entered our new home, a brother brought fruit 
trees and set them out. Thus the kind-hearted Saints be¬ 
stowed gift after gift, till we were fairly overwhelmed be¬ 
cause of the multitude of them. And not only from the Saints 
of that locality, but a generous offering came also from the 
editor of Autumn Leaves because I had written a little for 
its pages. 

Was there a cause for all those gifts being bestowed upon 
us other than simply the generosity of the people? I believe 
there is always a first cause whether hidden or revealed, for 
whatever takes place. In this instance, while we felt deeply 
grateful to the people, we recognized in it also the fulfill¬ 
ment of promise. We had, just prior to or about the time of 
our taking that place, accomplished the matter of sending to 
the Bishop all our tithes; and while I believe the promise of 
the Lord made through the Prophet Malachi, that he would 
open the windows of heaven and pour them out a blessing so 
that they should not be able to contain it, applies to the 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


311 


church as a body, when they have paid all their tithes, I 
believe also that he blesses individuals proportionally, who 
through effort and sacrifice attain individually to what he en¬ 
courages the church to do as a body. With us it had cost 
quite a sacrifice of feeling, or at least of pride, in wearing old, 
faded, and timeworn clothes in towns and cities, and not at 
all in the prevailing style, that the money might be laid 
aside until we could get our financial debt to the Lord paid. 

As soon as the house was boarded up, the floor laid, 
windows put in, and doors hung, we moved in, amid lumber 
and shavings, to save the long walk to and from work. It 
is no reflection on the great kindness of Sister Page and 
family, where we made our home when in San Benito, nor any 
others with whom we stayed, to mention the happy, restful 
feeling we experienced when evening came, and the shavings 
were cleared away, and we drew our rocking-chairs comfort¬ 
ably near the red-hot stove, for the nights were freezing cold, 
and enjoyed a quiet read while tiying to realize that we 
were in our own home, and were not in anybody’s way. And 
we felt rich indeed, as though we had need of nothing. 

An especial prayer meeting was appointed to be held in 
our house on New Year’s evening, which would be our first 
Saturday evening at Mount Olivet; a meeting of thanksgiv¬ 
ing and praise for the favors of the past year, and to invoke 
God’s blessing and his Spirit to abide with us in our new 
home; and also with those who had so liberally contributed 
to our comfort. It was indeed an especial meeting. The 
Saints all came, regardless of cold, darkness, and mud; but 
v/ithin there was no darkness. We all felt that evening, as on 
many other occasions, that it was “good to be a Saint in lat¬ 
ter days.” It seemed indeed as though an angel might be 
present with us, as affirmed by one speaking by the Spirit. 
We always had good testimony meetings at San Benito; but 
after that New Year’s evening, the Saints enjoyed a social 
meeting just a little better, I think, when held at “Mount 
Olivet” than elsewhere. I think our petitions were accepted, 
for the genial Spirit of light abode with us, and we were 
blessed in our efforts to get home comforts about us. We 
were soon able to own a horse and buggy. But Brother Holt 
had never allowed us to feel the disadvantage of being with¬ 
out while we had none, neither that of being at a distance 
from the railroad station; he was ever on hand to meet us 


312 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


at our home-coming, when we could occasionally spend a few 
weeks in our mountain retreat. To shake our clothes out of 
our valises, and throw off the restraint of being ‘‘guests,” 
was restful. And then there was “Sue” and the buggy at 
our command, and the post office far enough away for a 
pleasant drive in the sweet morning air peculiar to hill 
country. Sisters Janie Holt and May Carmichael ever kept 
us supplied with fresh eggs and other good things to eat; 
while “Belle,” our pet cow, never failed to furnish milk and 
cream. The little bunnies skipped about the yard, and 
flocks of quails came morning and evening to pick up the 
scattered seeds. Can anyone blame us for looking forward 
v/ith pleasure to our brief holidays at “Mount Olivet”? or 
for letting our thoughts cross the great deep occasionally, 
and linger pleasantly about those green hills? 

During the summer of 1894 the question of building a 
craft of some kind for the missionary work in the South 
Sea Islands was being agitated. Upon inquiry as to how 
it would get to the islands, I was quite relieved to learn that 
a man had offered to take her to her destination, should 
there be one built, for I feared it would come about some way 
that Mr. Burton would be the one to go. And it came to pass 
as I had feared. When the Bishop came to the coast to see 
about having her built, and Mr. Burton learned from him 
that the brother who had previously offered was too aged 
a man for such an undertaking, and also saw by the counte¬ 
nance of our good Bishop that he was burdened with anxiety 
about the matter, he offered to take the little ship to the mis¬ 
sionaries in the islands. As soon as he made this known to 
me I resolved to accompany him, to both render service and 
share whatever his fate might be. I knew enough about 
the sea to know it would not be a desirable trip, and that the 
heat was as much to be dreaded as the sea. Joseph had in¬ 
formed me that the little ship would be of schooner rig. I 
knew of course she would be small. But when I went to see her 
while being built—in a shed—I found I had not gotten my 
ideas down very near the miniature dimensions, and confess 
to having felt the strength all ooze from my body at the 
thought of crossing the ocean, even the Pacific, at that late 
season of the year, in such a tiny craft. Nevertheless, my 
resolve to go was not shaken. But had she been built for 
any purpose other than for the furtherance of the gospel 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


313 


work and the comfort of the missionaries engaged therein, 
the undertaking would have seemed madness. But as it was, 
I felt that we had a right to expect special protection from 
the Lord; and knowing we would have the daily prayers of 
very many of the church, we could go the more cheerfully 
forward. I told our daughter Addie I was rather pleased 
than otherwise that an opportunity had offered, wherein I 
could manifest to the Lord that I was willing to trust him 
in more than the ordinary events of life. We had been made 
the recipients of so many extra favors, it seemed but my 
reasonable service. It is said that sailors are superstitious. 
Perhaps in my seafaring life I imbibed something of that 
nature, for when the Evanelia fell from her launchings ways 
and stuck on the bank with just her bows in the water (a 
little event that I was careful not to make known to my peo¬ 
ple) , it was to me an ill omen. It did not overshadow my 
faith, but suggested the possibility of a necessity for more 
being called into action. 

While the Evanelia was being built, the sisters of the San 
Francisco Branch were busy making quilts, sheets, pillow 
cases, and providing many other things for the comfort of 
those on the trip out, and the missionaries already there, as 
well as those who should follow. 

Besides those small things, Bishop Kelley generally supplied 
all that was needful for the full equipment of the little craft, 
so that when she left San Francisco, she was a trim and 
cozy little craft. Those on board were Joseph F. Burton as 
captain (his wife accompanying him). Brother Jeptha Scott 
as mate. Brother and Sister Hubert Case were going as 
missionaries. They had never seen the ocean before, but 
Brother Case accepted the position and duties of “hand be¬ 
fore the mast” in the mate’s watch. A strange young man by 
the name of William McGrath, who had never been on the 
ocean before, was hand in the captain’s watch. A Brother 
Niemann, an able seaman and good cook, went as cook and 
general helper. 

The Evanelia was schooner rig, thirty-seven feet length of 
keel, fifteen feet beam, six feet depth, and eighteen tons 
register. She was launched September 13, 1894, and dedicated 
Sunday, September 23, but was not ready for sea until Oc¬ 
tober 18, on which day we towed out of San Francisco over 
the “bar,” and started on our long voyage, but with a head 


314 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


wind, and during the first night about two a. m. she was nearly 
thrown on her beam ends by being struck by a heavy squall 
of wind. It was in the mate’s watch. The night was clear and 
fine when the captain retired, so he permitted himself to go 
fast asleep. When the squall struck he sprang out of bed, 
ran up the steps of the companionway and called out the 
command to “keep her off,” then with one foot on the floor 
and one on the wall—so greatly was she tilted down—he got 
into his clothes as quickly as possible. Sail was speedily 
taken in, but there was no lull after the squall, it was a gale 
of wind, and blowing right on shore. The captain saw that 
with his best efforts the little craft could not be kept from 
drifting ashore or on rocks before morning, and making a 
calculation where the outer buoy on the bar was, he ran for 
it. The fog that came with the wind, was every minute be¬ 
coming more dense, but fortunately he ran near enough to 
the buoy to see it, then squared away to cross the bar and 
run for the harbor again. It then began to be daylight. How 
the little ship labored, creaked and groaned! The grinding 
of the timbers gave out just such a sound as she crossed the 
heavy sea on the bar that was momentarily becoming worse, 
but thanks to the protecting hand of our God, we were 
brought safely over it, and all the way up through the 
Golden Gate and opposite San Francisco in a fog so dense 
that neither the shore nor any object was seen till entering 
the harbor of San Francisco when the fog lifted or became 
thin enough for the captain to see to run for the bay of 
Sausalito. It was two a. m. when he took the wheel, and one 
p. m. when he resigned it in Sausalito weary and worn with 
the night of labor and anxiety, of which all had a share. 
Things were tumbled about generally, and no one had eaten 
anything since supper the night before, but oh, how good to 
get into smooth water once more! The harbor of Sausalito 
was much more smooth and sheltered than that of San Fran¬ 
cisco. 

The storm raged outside for a week. Then it abated, the 
wind hauled, and blew off shore! a fair wind for our journey. 
The captain deemed it wise, however much he disliked to see 
a fair wind blowing away, to remain in port for one day and 
two nights, for the sea that would be heavy on the bar to run 
down some, but ah me, he had no idea how high they were. 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


315 


and made the venture as also other ships who sought shelter 
in San Francisco harbor from the same storm that we did. 

The following will be an extract from the ^‘Voyage of the 
Evanelia” written while on the voyage. 


CHAPTER 17 


The Voyage of the ^"Evanelia’’ Written During 
the Voyage 

A s a preface to my journal I will state that among the 
many good thoughts and things provided by the sisters 
for our voyage was a plan suggested to the mind of Sister 
Phebe Walker, of San Francisco, she that was Phebe Knight, 
which would give a new pleasure to every day of the voyage; 
viz, to secure for me as many letters from as many sisters as 
we intended to be days on the ocean—about thirty, put them 
in a box promiscuously, from which I was to take one each 
day without making choice, which was responded to by twenty- 
six sisters (though three failed to reach me). This was to 
me a pleasant idea, and as an acknowledgment of the 
kindness of both Sister Walker and those who should write, 
I agreed to furnish them with a journal of the voyage out to 
the islands, and also insert extracts, or comments, or both, 
from each letter. Many will be interested in the most mi¬ 
nute details of our trip; still if you find I become too wordy 
in my journal for your space to admit of full publication, you 
are at liberty to cut it down according to your better judg¬ 
ment. 

October 26, 1894. Yesterday morning we got under way 
at Sausalito and started for sea again. The captain had paid 
the lawful pilotage and towage out of the harbor once for 
this voyage, so concluded to take the little schooner out him¬ 
self this time. The wind was nor’west at sea, but always 
draws in through the channel, so we had to make several 
tacks in getting out. On account of the recent prolonged 
storm the ocean was very turbulent, sending foaming break¬ 
ers across the bar and a heavy swell far up into the harbor. 
We had an adventure while passing through the “Golden 
Gate.” We were standing over towards the north shore, and 
just as the captain was going to put her on the other tack, 
the wind, which had been light all the morning, dropped 
away altogether, and for the first time our little ship would 
not mind her helm. Both the tide and the swell were setting 
her onto the rockbound shore, against which the sea was 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


317 


beating and sending the spray far up in the air. The boat, 
which had been lashed across the forward part of the house 
for the voyage, was gotten out as quickly as possible, and the 
men making a line fast to the bows bent their strength to 
the oars and succeeded in getting her out in the channel 
again; but in the meantime she had drifted painfully near 
that relentless rocky bluff. It did seem as if there was a 
power at work against us, but the power for us was greater. 

When we had gotten out beyond the heads, and the anx¬ 
iety of going out without a pilot and the attendant difficulties 
were in the past, we began to realize that another yet awaited 
us in the form of two miles of foaming, combing bar to 
cross. The day before had been so perfectly still, and the 
morning so serene in the bay of Sausalito that we had no 
idea what it was at sea, and had hoped the bar was not 
breaking. Two large ships were going to sea also that morn¬ 
ing, but they did not attempt to cross it. They towed in near 
the land around it, and seeing how they rolled and wallowed, 
though they did not reach the breakers, made me feel a 
dread of encountering them in our little craft. And I knew 
that there would be only one result, that of sending us to the 
bottom if one of those watery mountains should pour itself 
upon our deck. We were not yet at our crossing and the 
wind being cold, I went to the cabin again where Sister 
Case was endeavoring to keep from being seasick. Our little 
boat had so many high hills to go up and down, it was trying 
on the equilibrium of the brain and stomach. 

While dreading the bar, and breathing a fervent prayer to 
God to preserve us from the breaking sea, the prediction 
made by Brother J. C. Clapp at the close of his dedicatorial 
address came to me, bringing renewed strength and faith. 
“She shall mount the highest waves and ride over them in 
perfect safety. No harm shall befall her.’^ “Now is her 
time,” thought I, “for she probably will not encounter any 
higher waves than these,” and with a calm assurance I went 
on deck, saying within myself, “We will wait and see the 
salvation of God.” 

On gaining the deck, the captain, whose face was a shade 
or two whiter than usual, said cheerily: 

“You should have stayed below, then you would not see 
how bad it is.” 


318 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


‘T came,” I replied, “because I wanted to see just how bad 
it is.” 

We were then just going on, and a long line of high rollers 
were marching toward us, gathering height and strength as 
they came. Nearer and nearer they approached, shutting 
everything from view except the topsail yards of the ships 
ahead, and when the green wall began to press menacingly 
against the side of the Evanelia, she, without disturbing her 
level, glided up to the very top and over the other side where 
the smooth water was, while the sea went breaking and 
foaming behind us, and another line was breaking a little 
distance ahead of us. To be in that mite of a vessel riding 
over those towering waves, seeing others combing and break¬ 
ing in every direction, sending their seething foam clear 
across the prairie-like plain—between the lines of rollers'— 
to be caught up by the next onward marching of giants and 
thrown still farther toward the harbor, was a sight beyond 
description, so majestic, so grand, we were filled with awe 
and admiration, without feeling a fear; even Sister Case, 
sick as she felt, came to the deck that she might not miss the 
awe-inspiring sight. 

As our little ship met and went over the first one, so she did 
over all, going over them sideways like a duck. We could 
only realize the height to which we ascended by the depth to 
which we suddenly dropped on the other side of the wave, 
which fairly made our heads swim. We realized too, that 
the Lord was with us and stayed those waves for our sakes 
that they broke not over us. Our decks were as dry when we 
reached the outer side as when we left the harbor. To God 
be praise and thanks for ever. 

A good, fair wind was blowing and the captain, taking his 
departure from the outer buoy, we started on our course 
“south by west,” and “crossed astern of a schooner” and 
kept along with those two ships that were towed out, till 
night hid them from view. 

The sea was pretty heavy and the breeze fresh all the 
afternoon and all night. With a close-reefed mainsail, dur¬ 
ing the night we plowed through the sea at the rate of eight 
and one half miles an hour. To-day the sea has been going 
down some, and the speed of our little ship increasing. She 
is now moving along at the rate of nine and one half miles 
an hour, making the sea boil up level with the rail at the 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


319 


bows, and leaving a foaming wake in the rear, and making 
it hard too, to move about the cabin without holding to some¬ 
thing. She is too short and broad to roll badly, but knocks 
about pretty lively boatlike, her motions are very quick. I 
have kept in our berth most of the time to-day to keep warm, 
and heretofore it has been too rough since we left to attempt 
to write, nor did I go to the mail box for a letter to-day. 
It is now nearly dark, and my husband informs me that we 
have reached the trade winds. I went on deck a few minutes. 
The sun that has been shining brightly all day is about ready 
to sink into the sea, and soft, fleecy clouds skirt the horizon. 
The sea is still pretty high, and when from their elevation 
one gets a view of the broad, blue expanse stretching away 
in every direction about us, it reminds one of a vast prairie 
all bespeckled with little snowdrifts. We are now one hun¬ 
dred and eighty miles olf shore and out of the range of coast 
storms. All goes well on board except that Sister Case has 
not sufficiently recovered from her seasickness to leave her 
bed yet. 

Saturday, 26th. Still moving along nicely; the air is a 
little less chilly this morning and the wind some lighter; but 
“whitecaps” still crown the waves. We have made one hun¬ 
dred and eighty miles in the last twenty-four hours. Last 
evening Madame Evanelia shipped a sea, or part of one, and 
the slide over the companionway was pushed back so about 
a bucketful came down the cabin. 

This morning I received a letter from Sister Fannie Lawn, 
of Sacramento, who wished to do her share towards making 
our voyage pleasant. 

Sunday, 27th. A beautiful day again. We are having a 
fine run down the trades, though not going so fast now as 
we have been. The blue waters are a little less turbulent and 
the air getting softer, though not “balmy” yet. All on board 
seem to feel the spirit of the Sabbath morning, and our 
hearts go out to God in thanks and gratitude for his loving 
care over us. This morning when all were seated around 
the breakfast table except the cook, who had taken the wheel, 
and Sister Case, who is still held in her berth by seasickness, 
—the captain started the dear, expressive hymn of “Praise 
God from whom all blessings flow,” and all joined in singing, 
after which he offered a touching, heartfelt prayer, bringing 
tears to all eyes. Even Mr. McGrath turned quickly at the 


320 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


close and hunted for something in his berth, probably for an 
opportunity to dry his eyes before they should be seen. He 
is a nice, helpful young man. I believe the Lord sent him 
to us, and hope his coming will prove as beneficial to him as 
to us, thereby leading him into the fold of Christ. 

The letter I drew from my oceanic mail box this morning 
proved to be from Sister Annie White, one of the two sisters 
who came to the dock so early to see us olf from San Fran¬ 
cisco. 

Monday, 28th. This day has been somewhat overcast in 
appearance and the breeze lighter. Since noon yesterday 
we have had the wind aft and sails spread out ^‘wing and 
wing” and have gained a distance of one hundred and fifty 
miles; are now six hundred miles on our way to the islands. 
Pretty good for four days’ sailing; still there is a long stretch 
of smooth, white chart between where we are and the black 
spots indicating where the islands are. This afternoon a tired, 
little gray bird lit on the mate’s shoulder and picked at his 
cheek. It seems to have been a pet bird and probably strayed 
from the steamer whose light we saw night before last. Now 
since it has got rested it flies about the cabin, perching first 
in one place and then another. 

This morning I drew from my oceanic mail box a letter 
from Sister Willett, which takes me back to the San Jose 
reunion and the tent in which she wrote, and I live over again 
that enjoyable season both spiritually and temporally. How 
great the goodness of God to his children, even his erring 
children! Yes, Sister Willett, good words are ever as “bread 
cast upon the waters.” 

Tuesday, 29th. The first sight that greeted my eyes on 
looking out of the cabin this morning was the captain at the 
wheel with the little bird that came on board yesterday 
perched on top of his head. After a while it darted off across 
the water and tried to alight, but finding nothing but water, 
came back again. After breakfast it made a tour in another 
direction and on coming back again flew around under the 
counter and got wet and could not rise again, so perished. 
Poor little birdie! 

The morning post brought me a letter from Sister Douglas, 
so in fancy a part of the forenoon was spent with her, just 
as it was when I was with her. How pleasant and how 
cheering to thus commune with friends when so many waters 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


321 


roll between us! Every day I breathe my thanks to Sister 
Phebe Walker for instigating such a method of constant 
communion with those upon the shore. May she never want 
for a friend. These letters are read to Sister Case and she 
enjoys them, though all are strange to her. 

I think some of the sisters, in California especially, will 
want to know if I make myself useful in any way on board 
of the ship. Well, I have not learned to steer by the com¬ 
pass yet. It is not so easy as steering by a tugboat. On our 
first starting out the captain allowed me to take the wheel 
while we passed out through the Golden Gate and partly 
over the bar that was then smooth. Apart from wiping 
dishes, etc., I have performed the service of “taking the time’’ 
off the chronometer for the captain each time it is necessary, 
and at “eight bells” yesterday afternoon when it was time 
to “heave the log” there was one man short on deck to do it, 
and the mate gave me the “log glass” to tuim. And to-day 
I have been promoted to “heaving the log.” I know there 
are many of my readers who will not know what is meant 
by “heaving the log,” unless I explain. The “log” is a small 
three-cornered piece of wood, slightly rounding on one of 
the three sides, and leaded on the rounding side—to make 
that part sink down in the water. Several fathoms of strong 
codline is made fast to this piece of wood, attached to all 
three comers for about half a foot when all merge into one. 
At certain distances on this long line—representing a mile 
each—are little short pieces drawn in between the twists of 
the line and knots tied in them numbering one for the first, 
two for the second, and so on up to a dozen perhaps; and 
half way between these pieces is just a one knot, indicating 
half a mile. These knotted pieces correspond in some in¬ 
genious way with the seconds of the sand glass (log glass). 
This line is then wound on a large “reel,” perhaps two and a 
half feet long, made for the purpose, and runs off very 
freely. The whole is for the purpose of learning how fast 
the ship is going, which has to be ascertained every four 
hours to keep “dead reckoning.” One man holds the reel, 
another “heaves the log” (throws it in the sea astern of 
the ship), letting the line pass loosely through his hand. 
When the first piece with a knot in it has passed over the 
rail he calls to a third who holds the “log glass,” “turn!” 
who instantly turns the glass. As the ship goes along the 


322 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


line pays out (the three-cornered piece of wood remains in 
the water at the same place where it was thrown), and when 
the sands have run out—being: fourteen seconds in doing so 
—he who holds the glass calls, ‘‘out!” and the one who 
threw the log grasps and holds the line instantly. The 
number of pieces with knots in them that went over the rail 
while the sands were running out, indicates the number of 
miles the ship is sailing in an hour. Our last throw showed 
five and a half. 

The sky has been much overcast to-day; no sun has ap¬ 
peared; winds light and sea almost smooth. Sister Case is 
able to lie on deck and all are well on board. On Sunday 
afternoon during the “dog watch” between four and six 
o’clock we had a prayer meeting in the cabin, but since then 
the weather is daily becoming more warm and pleasant, and 
we gather in the “cockpit” (the horseshoe-shaped place on 
deck abaft of the cabin) before breakfast and before sup¬ 
per, sing a hymn or two, read a chapter in the Bible, and 
have prayer by turns, which all seem to enjoy. 

Wednesday, 30th. This is the most glorious morning we 
have had yet on the voyage. The sun is bright and the sky 
blue, with rifts of soft white clouds here and there. The 
deep blue of the canopy above is reflected in the great ocean 
beneath, upon whose slightly heaving bosom we are gliding 
along with a seven-iand-a-half-knot breeze. The air is clear, 
sweet, and balmy, and all on board are rejoicing in the bless¬ 
ings of the Lord. My soul feels almost to overflow with 
thanksgiving and praise to our God. Sister Fannie Lawn, in 
order to more fully heed the admonitions contained in your 
letter, I have renounced my cherished cup of coffee in the 
mornings (tea, I have not drank for years) ; and would you, 
could you believe that that little sacrifice is in one sense the 
hardest for me to make? for with that pleasant beverage 
goes all my enjoyment and relish of the meal. In all those 
little sacrifices requisite in the effort to put ourselves right 
we are made to realize the truth of the proverb, “He that is 
slow to anger is better than the mighty; and he that ruleth 
his spirit than he that taketh a city.” 

Thursday, November 1. So far we have had a fine run, 
but not a very smooth one, at least for the past twenty-four 
hours. It is just one week now since we crossed the bar. 
Have had a steady, fair wind ever since and are nine hun- 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


323 


dred and sixty miles on our journey. I hope that in three 
weeks from to-day we will reach Papeete. 

I wonder if any of the brethren or sisters in the various 
branches of the church who met together last evening for 
their Wednesday evening prayer meeting saw a little group 
on the miniature deck of a very small craft far out on the 
ocean engaged in a similar service. We had a good meeting. 
Brother Scott spoke with feeling. How glad we are that 
the Lord put it in his heart—or that of his wife to prompt 
him—to offer his services for this voyage. I can not call to 
mind another in all the church who could fill the position so 
well as he. Our confidence in him is such that when it is 
his watch on deck and the captain comes below, we can sleep 
soundly, knowing that all will be well. 

No, Sister Driver, I was not surprised on getting a letter 
from you, as I did to-day; was pleased, though. Ever since 
the day you brought me to Irvington from the baptism 
during the first reunion there, my thoughts often wander to 
you, or draw you to me, and I see you and hear you talk 
just as plainly as then. 

This is Thursday afternoon, and in spirit I meet with the 
sisters of the prayer union, where I know we will be fer¬ 
vently remembered. May the Lord be with them also. 

Friday, 2d. Nothing unusual has occurred to-day. We 
are still sailing along before a steady, fair wind, and all feel 
content and happy. Yesterday I missed the two large, gray 
gulls that have followed us and kept near the boat all the 
way from the shore, som.etimes circling around the vessel, 
and sometimes alighting and sitting gracefully in the water. 
Evidently it was the bits that were thrown overboard and 
that got scattered out of the hen coop that is lashed on 
astern that baited them along. But how accurate their 
knowledge of their whereabouts! On Wednesday afternoon 
we passed the last obstruction in the sea that is within thou¬ 
sands of miles of our course till we get in the neighborhood 
of the Society Islands, and that rock or island, whichever it 
is, was seventy-five miles to leeward of us; but they must 
have known of its location and gone to it. 

My letter this morning was from Sister A. E. Davis, of 
Irvington. 

Saturday, 3d. This morning I deliberately finished one of 
the promised mittens that I had under way before going to , 


824 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


my mail box and am sorry that I kept myself so long from 
the pleasure that awaited me in a letter from Sister Phebe 
Walker, of San Francisco. 

The Evanelia does indeed seem to be aware of her mission 
or the trust confided to her and that she intends to perform 
the sam-e; for since the day she so gallantly carried us over 
the breaking “bar,” she has not turned her head either to 
the right or the left, but gone “steadily forward,” pushing 
a portion of the waves from side to side and “riding like a 
duck” over the rest. Very little water indeed is ever thrown 
on her deck; and we, too, feel that our ever watchful Father 
above will see us safely to our destination. We are never all 
on deck together, only at prayer time. The time, both day 
and night, is divided into “watches” of four hours each, ex¬ 
cept the “dog watch,” which is from four to eight o’clock 
p. m., in which each have a two-hour watch, for doubtless 
all are aware that some one must be in charge of the ^eck 
and the wheel both day and night, and that such duty is not 
left to the option of any one. Brother Case is in the captain’s 
watch, and Mr. McGrath is in the mate’s, and this is their 
order; beginning for example at eight o’clock last night, the 
captain and Brother Case were on deck from eight o’clock 
till twelve; while the other watch was sleeping. They have 
two hours each at the wheel, and the man not at the wheel 
keeps a lookout and is ready for any services that may be 
needed about deck and relighting lamps that may go out. 
At twelve o’clock they stmck “eight bells” and called out 
the mate’s watch. As soon as they got on deck and at their 
respective posts the captain and his man came below and 
slept till four o’clock in the morning, then they were called 
out again and the mate and his men came below and “turned 
in” till seven bells, being half past seven in the morning; 
then all hands get ready for breakfast and have prayers, and 
breakfast at eight o’clock, which is “eight bells,” at which 
time the captain’s watch is again relieved and the mate takes 
charge of the deck until twelve at noon. So the captain and 
Brother Case being up eight hours last night are now tak¬ 
ing their forenoon’s siesta, ready to take their watch on deck 
this afternoon. If there were no two-hour watch the same 
two men would have to be on deck eight hours every night, 
but the “dog watch” makes it come alternately. The cap¬ 
tain has to lose half an hour in both his forenoon and after- 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


325 


noon watch; in the forenoon to watch the sun and get his 
latitude, and in the afternoon to figure up the day’s work. 
Brother Niemann is in the captain’s watch also, and on the 
first few nights on the coast, before Brother Case “learned 
the ropes,” he too was on deck more or less nights; but now 
that Brother Case and Mr. McGrath have learned to be good 
helmsmen, and. sailormen, too, he devotes most of his time to 
his work in the galley. This voyage is quite a new experi¬ 
ence in Joseph’s life as captain, for as such he never before 
had to stand any regular watch on deck. Only in storms 
or making the land would he be on deck in the nighttime, 
and then not to steer, but simply to give orders to others. 

Sunday, 4th. A very, very warm day. I enjoyed a chat 
with or from Sister Essie Cockerton this morning. Have 
been wishing to draw that one ever since we left. But I see 
you designed that we should be out a number of days before 
I should read it. You will find your question as to how I 
spend my time already answered, with the exception of one 
item, which is the almost daily work of taking our clothes out 
of the lockers on deck to dry, and ever changing them about 
to keep from getting wet. All vessels leak some, but this 
one leaks a little too much for her size, and the water washes 
up in the air chambers and leaks through into the lockers 
and sometimes she throws it clear over tlie stringers into the 
berths, wetting the sleepers and the bedding, causing much 
discomfort. 

Monday, 5th. A stiff breeze to-day and sea more rough 
than yesterday. I indulged the hope that long before this 
we would have been in smoother water. Sister Case was able 
to take part in our sacrament meeting yesterday afternoon, 
but is not so well to-day,—is quite feverish. And Brother 
Scott, the mate, has a bad cold and does not feel at all well, 
did not eat anything this morning. The captain was quite 
sick Saturday afternoon and the fore part of the night had 
quite a high fever for a few hours; but thanks be to God 
he soon got better, and was able to take his place at the 
wheel at midnight. I did not permit myself to dwell on the 
thought of what the consequence would be if he should have 
a sick spell, but my mind seemed to be girded up doubly 
strong with the inward affirmation that “he must get well”; 
necessity demanded it. We trust also that Brother Scott may 


326 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


speedily recover, for we have no men to spare without over¬ 
taxing the rest. 

Our experience on this voyage is peculiar. There seems 
to be a constant demand for the exercise of faith against 
what appears to be an opposing power. But perhaps it is 
only the hand of the Lord in disguise. I acknowledge that 
a feeling of dreariness is creeping over me this afternoon. 
The wind is blowing hard, sea heavy, sky threatening, ba¬ 
rometer falling, and the crew not well. We are nearing the 
doldrums, and possibly the mercury in my “makeup” has 
reached that point in advance of the ship. We have sailed 
one hundred and sixty miles in the last twenty-four hours, 
and those who have seen the Evanelia will know that about 
all we women folks could do was to keep ourselves from 
tumbling about. I sketched down my journal mth a pencil, 
and copy under more favorable circumstances. I think the 
captain likes the looks of his ship best when all sail is spread, 
for he does not seem to be in any hurry to take them in. 
My letter to-day was from Sister Cockerton, a kind letter 
just like herself. I suppose she is very happy now in her 
new home as Sister Putney. 

Tuesday, 6th. A clear sky this morning, consequently a 
very warm morning; too hot for staying on deck. It is 
cooler in the cabin in the daytime than on deck, notwithstand¬ 
ing there is a fire in the stove in the galley all the fore part 
of the day, and the door open between it and the cabin all 
the time. It was not so rough this morning but what my 
mail could be delivered, and I had the pleasure of reading 
a letter from Sister Lulu Morrison, of Oakland. Thanks 
for the inclosed flowers; they looked as fresh and bright as 
if put there only yesterday. We have now been thirteen 
days at sea and are about half way to the islands. It seems 
as though the farther south we go the rougher it gets. The 
sea is about as heavy to-day as on the coast. The sky that 
was so bright this morning has become overcast; the glass 
is falling, with every appearance of rain. At the present 
rate of sailing we will be in the latitude of the doldrums at 
midnight. The doldrums is where the trade winds cross each 
other, or at least the nor’east and southeast trades meet, 
which of course causes squalls, calms, and heavy rainstorms. 
Sometimes a ship is baffled about a week or more before get¬ 
ting steady winds. We have been favored with a strong, 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


327 


steady, fair wind all the way, and most of the day the sun 
is obscured, thus keeping the decks cool, which is good for 
both the men at the wheel and the provisions. But we have 
all lost appetite, and the cook is becoming disgusted with put¬ 
ting food on the table only to take it off again. 

Wednesday, 7th. We are now fairly in the doldrums—ran 
out of the northeast trades at midnight, since which time 
the wind has been light and baffling. Rained heavily all the 
forenoon, a goodly portion of it coming in the cabin; for we 
would almost smother if shut in tight. This afternoon there 
has not been any wind at all and our little ship is tilting 
over the swell that rolls beneath her like a board across the 
top rail of a fence; but neither the rain nor the calm hin¬ 
dered me from receiving a nice, friendly letter from a far-off 
sister. 

I had a little scare all to myself last evening. But it was 
only for a few minutes though. I thought the boat had 
sprung a leak. From the first time I saw this boat, I have 
never regarded the voyage to the islands a “pleasure trip,” 
as some did, but to the contrary my mind was ever impressed 
that perils awaited us. Always in my dreams we were in 
some perilous position where there seemed to be no escape, 
but we always did escape just at the last. I had seen, too, 
how we started once and were driven back on account of 
heavy weather, so I started on this voyage as one walking 
up to a fiery furnace, for perils are sometimes more to be 
dreaded than death. I dreamed a few nights ago of saying 
to some one, “How I wish I could feel clear and confident 
that we would go smoothly and peacefully all the way!” 
She said, “You can not feel that way because it is not going 
to be that way,” then I saw some one was sick and I thought 
the boat sprung a leak at the bows. In the morning Sister 
Case was quite sick, weak, and feverish; but I did not tell 
anyone my dream. The captain had responsibility enough on 
his mind and did not want to make anyone else apprehensive. 
All day Sister Case was quite sick and the mate was far from 
well. The weather kept getting heavier and I felt a de¬ 
pression that prayer did not relieve, though I prayed much. 
In the evening I went to the galley and saw that there was 
much water on the floor, and asked the cook where it came 
from. He said he did not know, that it came in forward 
somewhere, and when I saw that it accummulated faster 


328 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


than he could bail and sop it up, I was alarmed, for with all 
her knocking about this had not occurred before. I thought 
it w’^as the fulfillment of my dream. The captain came and 
discovered that it was coming in through a broad open seam 
in what is called “the skin,’^ just abaft the water tank, and 
evidently came from the hold; but how it became clogged up 
there in the bows, is not known. The mate came down with 
hammer and chisel and cut a hole in the floor and let it run 
in the hold again where it could be pumped out. So my 
scare was soon over and I was glad to know that the dream 
was up. 

Thursday, 8th.—Last evening the moon dispersed the clouds 
somewhat and by midnight our little ship after her twenty- 
four hour rest, started off on her course again in the south¬ 
east trades. Our portion of the doldrums—if over—was very 
light. Tis rainy to-day, and although we seem to be in the 
southern trades we still have wind and rain squalls. While 
I write she is stivering along beneath the pressure of one. 
Now we breathe easier. The captain bought a nice four- 
dollar-and-a-half rubber coat before we left San Francisco 
to protect him against the rain, but the second time it got 
wet the sleeves fell out of it and the seams began to*open. 

Just two weeks to-day since we left San Francisco Bay; 
are something over half way to the islands. Have not been 
able to get our position to-day or yesterday on account of 
the sun being obscured all day. As the afternoon wears on 
the weather appears threatening. Heavy squalls all around, 
though we only get a very little of them. A few days be¬ 
fore we left the northeast trades, when the captain reckoned 
up the day’s work he found that we were some fifty miles to 
leeward of Where she should have been by the course they had 
been steering. He knew that they had to keep her off con¬ 
siderable all the twenty-four hours to ease her over the sea 
that was running high, still it would not have made any¬ 
thing like that difference, and he allowed that there must be 
a strong current setting westward. But since the effect of 
the current was not afterward felt north of the equator, I 
am inclined to regard it as an especial interposition of Him 
who has watchcare over us; for if we were fifty miles to 
windward of where we are now, we would have those squalls 
much heavier. 

Friday, 9th. Instead of a storm yesterday afternoon a 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


329 


calm fell upon us. Our little ship swayed leisurely on the 
heaving bosom of the ocean, while the clouds hung heavy and 
low. A ray of sunlight shot through a crevice in the clouds 
just before it sank into the ocean, and by the “bow” that 
was then seen in the sky we know that there shall again be 
“seedtime and harvest.” 

When we left San Francisco I regretted much that we 
had been detained there till the dark of the moon, thinking 
that we would feel the need of it most while on the coast; 
but the few nights we were on the coast were clear and star¬ 
light, and we have the light of the moon now in the worst 
part of our journey. It usually disperses the clouds by night, 
though they make up again in the daytime. 

I was pleased to get your letter to-day. Sister Letitia. Had 
been wondering if Neptune would bring me one from you. 
We are, as you thought we would be, “far from land, with 
only waves and sky in sight” and “sailing smoothly” but not 
“swiftly” along. We went swiftly a little while about noon 
to-day; had an eight-knot squall right behind us. The captain 
did not disturb the sails, but he kept the wheel going. We 
have not had any stormy weather yet, nor do we anticipate 
anything more than a little rain perhaps. All would be con¬ 
tent and happy on board if only Sister Case were well. She 
is getting better, though is, of course, much reduced. She 
has kept a brave heart through it all, not uttering a word of 
complaint or repining. I judge she will be a good mission¬ 
ary, and she has a kind and attentive husband. 

Saturday, 10th. This is a thoroughly rainy day, as was 
also a part of yesterday. Our cabin is not exactly cozy in 
rainy weather. The slide over the companionway has to be 
shoved back to admit air. And that lets the rain in of 
course. Besides there is no place to dry wet clothing. What 
is taken off wet has to stay wet till a sunny day comes to 
dry it; nor are there very many places to hang any, so it has 
to be left in little piles on the floor, also shoes and rubbers. 
Still no one has complained; we welcomed the rain; it made 
the air cool and furnished a more plentiful supply of water. 
We can now afford to wash out our cup towels. How did we 
catch the water? By means of a canvas spout rigged under 
the main boom. 

The slight discomfort experienced because of the rainy 
weather causes us to think of what Sister Smith and those 


330 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


with her had to endure while in an open boat five days and 
nights in rain and sun, and how the missionaries will appre¬ 
ciate the comforts of this little ship. We have ceased to re¬ 
gard the Evanelia as a “boat.” True, while in San Francisco 
Bay among those great ships, steamers, and ferryboats, she 
looked rather insignificant—a mere speck on the ocean; but 
being so long by ourselves and seeing nothing on the ocean 
larger than a gull, our bark that has borne us so nobly over 
the billows has in our estimation assumed almost colossal 
proportions,—a very monarch of the sea. And the cabin that 
at first seemed so small, and ourselves so cramped for room, 
has by comparison with the galley and two small, closely 
packed storerooms fore and aft, become in our estimation 
large, roomy, and airy. Such is the nature of this human, 
to adapt itself to its environments. 

We have not made very much on our journey in the past 
three days, but have done far better than many another one 
has in the doldrums. Last night the men witnessed what 
assured us of our heavenly Father’s special care over us. 
There was a terrible squall at a little distance away; they 
heard the roar of the wind and saw how it lashed the sea 
to a foam, but it did not touch us. I think, by the overcast 
sky, heavy swell, and often heavy sea we have felt, that 
there have been heavy storms on the Pacific this winter. If 
so, we have been shielded from all. Thanks be to our 
heavenly Father. And now since the evidence given us last 
nigtht of his care over us, we feel doubly secure, and the 
gloomy visions have left. 

The heavy rain this morning did not prevent the Evanelia*s 
mail from being distributed, and it was my privilege to hear 
from Sister Ethel Burgess, of San Jose. I see that it was 
intended that I should have selected that one on the 23d of 
October, but I had failed to see the request on the envelope. 
Why the 23d of October? Was that your birthday, sister? 
If so, I wish you many happy returns, and am glad that 
there was a 23d of October, as many others also are, and 
will yet be. 

Sunday, 11th. (Written on Monday.)—The clouds settled 
towards the horizon Saturday night, black and heavy, show¬ 
ing heavy rain squalls all about us. A dense bank just ahead 
of us. The rain reached us about seven in the evening; the 
wind blew strong and increased as the night wore on, the sea 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


331 


also tossing, pitching, and pressing our little ship in an un¬ 
comfortable manner. At twelve o’clock at night the call was 
made, “All hands on deck and shorten sail.” After which 
we ran easier and I went to sleep. Sunday morning was 
clear and bright, wind blowing fresh and sea still running 
high. The captain feels sure there was a heavy gale of wind 
not far from us. I am quite ready to believe it. We were 
hauled by the wind all day, it being the first head wind we 
have had. The Evanelia waddled rather than sailed wearily 
along, being almost stopped at times by the heavy head sea. 
She looked tired and discouraged. Brother Case gave us a 
short sermon in the afternoon, and we partook of some of 
Sister Anthony’s fruit cake for supper in the evening. I 
had the privilege also on Sunday of reading a letter from 
my aged friend. Sister Nightingale, written at the reunion, 
and was an appropriate Sunday letter. I have often thought 
when in her company. What a lesson to us younger ones is 
her constant cheerfulness under the trial of poor health and 
much sorrow! I fervently say, God bless her, and help me 
to imitate her example in my life! Ah, the thought comes 
to me thus: “Such lives can not be imitated! But if the same 
spirit of love, meekness, and submission dwells in you, it will 
produce the same fruits.” 

Monday, 12th. This is a glorious morning. The flying fish 
are flitting about, skimming the waves in little flocks, trying 
to keep out of the way of the springing dolphin that feeds 
upon them. Sometimes in the nighttime in their eagerness 
to escape their pursuers they fly on board, then the result is 
that they jump from the dolphin into the frying pan. The 
sea is quite smooth this morning with a clear sunny sky and 
consequently very warm. But ’tis good to get a day to dry 
up things. Every available spot on deck is strewn with 
clothes and bedding. A person who has not been in those 
warm, damp regions can scarcely imagine how hard it is to 
keep clothing, shoes, and books from being spoiled by mil¬ 
dew, and steel and iron by rust. It is a constant fight. 

I was favored this morning with a short letter from Sis¬ 
ter Fhoda Lav/n, which wafted me quite near home, while 
thinking over some of the many pleasant visits Brother Bur¬ 
ton and I have had at her hospitable home. 

Tuesday, 13th. The wind hauled fair last night and we 
sailed along finely and had a nice cool night which added to 


332 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


the comfort of sleeping. This morning was beautiful, al¬ 
most clear at sunrise, and the ocean a beautiful, deep blue; 
and although the sun has been hot all day, the air is delight¬ 
fully cool. I go on deck awhile in the early morning before 
the sun heat gets too strong, and again in the evening. I 
can not stand the heat after nine in the morning. Hope it 
will keep cloudy and cool for the men’s sakes who have to 
stand at the wheel without an awning. Their cheeks and, 
noses are almost blistered now. I was real pleased with 
having a little chat to-day with a new friend. Sister Forest, 
of Alameda, and will say. Sister Forest, that when the box 
you sent was delivered to me, and I saw it was marked 
“on the water,” I put my curiosity aside and waited till we 
got three days at sea before opening it. Many thanks for 
the same. It was a real “Christmas box.” We enjoy the 
cocoa very much. 

Wednesday, 14th. This morning and last night, too, was 
rainy, but it is clear and fine now; are by the wind again, still 
it is not exactly a head wind; but she does not sail so fast 
“by the wind” as any other way. These last seven days have 
been somewhat tedious, not having made much more distance 
than we did in forty-eight hours in the northwest trades; 
but we content ourselves with the thought that the Lord 
knows we are here and where we want to go, and since we 
have and do continually commend ourselves to him to direct 
our ways, it must be for some wise purpose that we are de¬ 
tained. We are not at all uncomfortable, but still have a 
childlike eagerness to be pushing on to our destination as 
speedily as possible. The weather is beautifully cool for only 
three degrees north of the equator, but the water in our 
tanks is quite warm. 

For variety to-day I made four apple pies and a plate of 
codfish balls. We had split pea soup, fricasseed chicken, and 
apple pie for dinner. Our chickens did not get drowned, as 
the reporter said in the San Francisco paper, neither was the 
coop floating about the deck, one very good reason being that 
there is no clear space on deck large enough for a chicken 
coop to move about in. Letters are getting low in the 
Evanelia mail box, so I do not have my mail delivered till 
afternoon, thinking thereby to make them last a little longer. 

Thursday, 15th. A very rough night last night, also to-day; 
the worst we have had. Still by the wind. A very heavy 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


333 


sea, that is occasionally breaking over her, and we get a 
portion of it in the cabin. I do hope it will go down some 
before night. We do not doubt but the Lord is with us, nor 
that we will reach our destination in safety. I know the 
Lord loves and cares for all his people, but he does not always 
preserve them from peril nor make all their paths smooth, 
either morally or spiritually. We pray the Father to speak 
peace to the waves and grant us favorable breezes; never¬ 
theless, his will be done; for he surely knows best. And our 
coming is in his service and that of the church, not seek¬ 
ing our own. Perhaps in this I ought to except myself, since 
I can not claim any commission other than the right of a 
wife to go where her husband goes when he so desires. 
Surely that is not displeasing in the sight of heaven. 

Sister Lizzie, I do not think it is right to take to myself 
all the credit that you and the sisters generally have given 
me in coming in the boat, as though I had been called upon 
to do so. My coming was altogether upon our own responsi¬ 
bility. It was, I will admit, something of a cross in one sense; 
but since my husband was coming I wished to stand by him, 
and it would have been a cross to have remained behind. 
And I am not sure but what I had my own happiness in view 
.as much as that of anyone else. When my husband told me 
I had better accompany him I naturally shrank from the trip, 
but my first thought was, “How it would cheer and gladden 
the heart of Sister Devore to see and converse with a sister 
from America,’’ not then knowing there would be another 
sister in the company; and again it would be worth much to 
me to see the native Saints in their earnest manner of wor¬ 
ship, even if I could not understand them; and again I would 
like to see the place and experience a little of the climate and 
of what the missionaries had to endure; and if by sign or 
word I could strengthen and encourage those there in the 
work, it would be a hearty pleasure; and I regard all together 
as privileges that few in the church are permitted to enjoy. 
And I know that “all things” are “bought with a price,” 
and to have them I must pay the price. Neither do I expect 
to sail to them on a placid sea. 

Friday, 16th. To-day is our thirty-fourth wedding anni- 
versaiy. The sun shines brightly, but the wind blows fresh 
and the sea is no better than yesterday—perhaps a little 
worse. It subsided some last night but came up again this 


334 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


morning. There is not so much water coming on board to¬ 
day, but I think she knocks about more. It is hard on Sis¬ 
ter Case for she feels sick most of the time when it is real 
rough. We have made a good run, though, in the last twenty- 
four hours, and that compensates in a measure for what we 
have to undure. “Drive on and get there,” is our motto now, 
for we have about given up hope of having a placid sea and 
enjoyable breezes. The captain saw a school of porpoises 
yesterday. We have seen lots of dolphins and flying flsh; no 
sharks yet. Brother Case saw a whale “blow” in the early 
part of the voyage. 

Saturday, 17th. The sun rose clear this morning for the 
first time with us on this voyage. The day is bright and 
nice, though not cloudless. (On account of the great evapo¬ 
ration from the ocean, especially morning and evening, the 
sunrise and sunset are almost always obscured.) The wind 
and sea are both going down, and the weather beautiful. We 
may now consider ourselves away from home for we have 
sailed off of the chart on which is the coast of California, 
and on the one of the South Sea Islands. Will cross the 
equator sometime to-night if the wind holds good. Are now 
twelve hundred miles from Tahiti. 

A calamity threatens us. On account of the dampness and 
heat, I suppose, the little mirror attached to the sextant 
(one of the navigating instruments), and by which the sun 
is reflected to the horizon, by the aid of which the captain 
gets the ship’s position each day, has become blurred and 
spotted as if steam had gotten between the glass and the 
quicksilver. This blur has crept over half of it now. The 
captain says if it goes all over we will not be able to find 
ourselves. But if we do not have too much adverse wind I 
know he could take her there pretty straight; though we 
might be a little longer reaching the desired port. Chris¬ 
topher Columbus came to America without having the land 
located on a chart, and the same power that guided him 
could and would direct us also. 

It was my privilege to have a letter to-day from Sister 
Rood of Stockton, the which was replete with original pleas¬ 
antry and comparative quotations of “heading” from the 
daily press. Since I am, as you said, “self-appointed post¬ 
mistress, mail carrier, and delivery clerk,” I have had my 
mail delivered at midday of late; so your letter was re- 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


335 


ceived fifteen minutes before twelve on Saturday, November 
17, latitude 53 degrees, longitude 138 degrees, and 54 min¬ 
utes. 

Sunday, 18th. The sun rose clear this morning and the 
whole day has been beautiful. A good, stiff breeze and quite 
a sea during the fore part of the day, but it subsided as the 
day wore on. The boat has run along very smoothly; that 
is, did not toss'the water over but very little. There have 
been few days indeed that the waves have not been foam- 
crested. The weather is so delightfully cool it is a continual 
source of wonderment to us. Nothing short of miraculous 
care over us, we believe. 

We hoped to have met the packet Galilee on her way from 
Papeete to San Francisco that left Papeete the 12th instant, 
but if we do not to-day, probably will not. We had a good 
sermon in the afternoon by Brother Burton, and testimony 
afterwards; being the first time we could have meeting on 
deck for over two weeks. 

I have drawn the last letter from my oceanic mail box. It 
was from Sister Nora Gibbs, and while reading I was in 
fancy wafted back to the reunion with its many pleasant 
scenes and seasons of instruction, together with our short 
but pleasant acquaintance. Those letters have been a source 
of interest and pleasure to me, and I hope none will attribute 
my making mention of them to any motive save it is that of 
a reasonable desire to express our sense of gratitude to 
those who have interested themselves to make our voyage 
pleasant by filling in the moments with kind words, wishes, 
and prayers for our preservation on the sea, pleasant visit, 
and speedy return. I heartily say, God bless them all, and 
be with them as a present helper in every time of need! I 
would like to have drawn one from our children, aged mother, 
and sisters in the flesh. But they did not know of the en¬ 
terprise soon enough to add theirs. Sister Forest’s letter 
contained some beautiful lines. Hope she will pardon the 
liberty I take in sending them for publication: 

“On the waters dark and drear, 

Jesus, Savior, thou art near. 

With our ship where’er it roam. 

As with loving friends at home. 


336 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


“Thou hast walked the heaving wave; 

Thou art mighty still to save; 

With one gentle word of peace 
Thou can’st bid the tempest cease. 

“Safely from the boisProus main 
Bring us back to port again. 

In our haven we shall be, 

Jesus, if we have but thee. 

“Only by thy power and love 
Fit us for the port above. 

Still the deadly storms within. 

Gusts of passion, waves of sin. 

“So when breaks the glorious dawn 
Of the resurrection morn, 

When the night of toil is o’er * 

We shall see thee on the shore.” 

Monday, 19th. Another beautiful day and nice breeze. 
This v/ill probably be our last week on this voyage. The 
captain thinks to reach our destination by next Sunday, 
since the trade winds are usually pretty steady. The time 
has not seemed long or wearisome, still we feel the need of 
more exercise. There is no place to walk on deck, and we 
could not walk if there were. Her motion is such that what 
little moving about we do is more of a dive, a halt, and a 
plunge than a walk. 

Tuesday, 20th. We are basking in all the glories of this 
south sea climate. The air clear and so deliciously cool, yet 
soft and balmy. It fills our veins with gladsomeness. Or is 
it because each day brings us now nearer those islands about 
which our thoughts have hovered so long? All goes well on 
board and everybody is happy. Mr. McGrath is whittling 
out a second edition of the Evanelia, and proposes to present 
it to the Herald Office. He seems interested in our books. 
Reads considerable. The morning I left off drinking coffee, he 
did also, and now does not drink either tea or coffee. He 
drank both when he came on board. It comes hard on 
Brother Niemann, the cook, there being no tea or coffee 
drinkers on board. He makes the coffeepot full all the same. 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


337 


and having no help, I suppose he feels it his duty to drink it 
all during the day sometime, nor does such “duty seem a 
task.” 

Wednesday, 21st. This has been a day of surpassing love¬ 
liness. We are gliding along before a pleasant five-knot 
fair wind, being rocked as gently as in a cradle. The heaving 
of the ocean throws up a white crest on the deep blue waves, 
but it is not an angry foam. We are some hundreds of miles 
south of the equator, and are going nearer the sun all the 
time, still the air is cool and comfortable, far more so than 
in the middle of the day in San Francisco when we left, still 
the sun has been shining brightly all day. I can scarcely 
imagine that winter has come upon America, and to-day 
they are busy preparing their Thanksgiving turkeys. We 
have one solitary fowl in the coop designated for our Thanks¬ 
giving dinner. How we should like to have eaten dinner 
with the Saints at Tahiti. We will in all probability eat 
our next Thursday’s dinner there. We are now opposite the 
Marquesas group of islands, but can not see them. They 
are one hundred and ten miles to windward of us. 

Thursday, 22d. No change in wind or weather. Our self- 
appointed Thanksgiving Day dawned brightly upon us, and 
all feel thankful and happy, looking forward with eager 
anticipations of soon reaching our destination. We enjoyed 
our dinner of chicken and plum pudding, and had a very 
enjoyable meeting between five and six o’clock. 

Sister Case was on deck in the afternoon and took part 
in the meeting, and sat at the table and ate supper with us 
for the first time since we left San Francisco. The ocean is 
becoming so smooth now we hope she will not be sick any 
more. 

I must confess, Sister Douglass, that for the first time 
since we have been at sea I utterly forgot until late in the 
afternoon that it was our “fast day,” and feasted instead. 

Friday, 23d. We are still enjoying the glory of the south 
sea trades and of this even climate. Sails have been spread 
wing and wing now for about forty-eight hours. A little 
stronger breeze to-day than yesterday, and we hope it will 
continue. We used the water rather too extravagantly while 
it was raining and now it is getting low in the tank, but 
hope and trust we shall reach the islands before we have 
need of more. Sister Case sat at the table with us again 


338 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


this morning and is now on deck. We have been “trotting 
down hill on a smooth road’’ for the past three days; that is, 
wind, sea, and current have all been in our favor. But the 
wind is growing lighter all the time. 

Saturday, 24th. “Lying on our oars.” Since nine o’clock 
last evening we have been in almost a dead calm. But that 
does not mean that the boat is still. Oh, no! There is not 
even a steady motion. She rolls and pitches all together. 
The gaffs swing from side to side with a jerk, shaking the 
sails, rattling the blocks, and making the booms creak tire- 
somely. There have been squalls all around us. We have 
got a little shower of rain, but no wind, nor was the captain 
able to get our position to-day, for no sun shone out through 
the clouds. To-morrow will be the day we expected to have 
made land, but it is still in the distance. We hope for clear 
weather before reaching it. There is a little strip of the 
mirror left clear yet. 

Sunday, 25th. The calm lasted till eight o’clock this morn¬ 
ing, then a light breeze sprang up. It is as much ahead as 
can possibly be, but we are thankful for any kind. Nothing 
is so tedious to the mariner as a calm. 

Well, my journal! It is nearly a week since I have been 
able to put a hand to you because of the pain in my side and 
-consequent weakness. Never mind, though, I have kept a 
scratch record all the same. On Monday, the 26th, we were 
winged out before a nice fair wind, and on Tuesday we had 
a fair wind with a vengeance, and as the captain says, we 
had to “stand by to never mind”; that is, to never mind 
how one is thrown about. The ton of coal and two tanks of 
water that were in the bows of the schooner are about ex¬ 
hausted, which makes quite a difference in her trim, and also 
a difference in her motion in a sea. She does not behave so 
well as at first. The captain thought possibly we might make 
those islands before night that we have to pass between, 
Rairoa and Tikehau, but did not make them before night, and 
being so low they were not discernible in the night and in the 
mist of darkness that settled about the horizon, so at eight 
o’clock our little ship was hove to, to wait for daylight, and 
we could not help expressing the regret of not being four 
hours farther along, then we could have run all night. But 
what can’t be cured must be endured, so Sister Case and I 
at least, sought forgetfulness in sleep, feeling that even this 


BEATPwICE WITHERSPOON 


339 


loss had the “small gain” of an easier motion to the ship 
after our day of bumping about. 

We had been running about two hours in the morning when 
my husband called me at six o’clock, Wednesday morning, 
the 28th, to see the land. It was a refreshing sight. Not a 
great blue mountain in the distance, but real living land. 
A sandy beach, tall coconut and tamarind trees, pineapple 
shrubberj’^, and green verdure. Our morning worship on deck 
with such a view in sight was rendered more heartfelt; song, 
“Shout the tidings of salvation”; Brother Case offered 
prayer, after which all joined Brother Burton in his favorite 
hymn of “Praise God from whom all blessings flow.” 

At nine a. m. we were nearly out of sight of them. A fine 
or bright morning, but a strong wind that increased till about 
four p. m., and of all the heavy sea and rough days and nights 
we have had, this one between the South Sea Islands was 
the worst. It seemed to us in the cabin as if giant calkers 
were at work all around her and even underneath, the way 
the sea pounded her from side to side, and ducked under her 
about midship, apparently lifting her nearly clear of the 
water, then down she would go again into the trough of the 
sea with such suddenness and force as would knock one off 
of his feet. I did not get seasick, but the sudden changes 
in motion would really make my brain, reel so for a moment 
that I would lose track of her motion, whether she was pitch¬ 
ing backward or forward or rolling. But at those unsteady 
periods one was usually reassured by a crash of water on 
deck and sheets of it coming down through the ventilation 
crevices left under the skylight. Several small holes were 
bored in the floor so it soon escaped, but not without first 
performing the uncomfortable mission of drenching whatever 
chanced to be where it fell. She was put under close reefs 
at noon but shook them out again at four o’clock; still she 
continued to labor pretty heavy, and all night the wind and 
waves raged and the poor little ship battled against them so 
vigorously that sound sleep could not be obtained by me, at 
least. Not that I was afraid, for I did not feel afraid at all. 

Thursday, the 21st, was not smooth by any means, but we 
pressed onward v/ith the hope of reaching Tahiti before 
night, the wind and sea getting more comfortable all the 
time. About noon we saw the dim outlines of the island in 
the distance. As we neared it I for one felt to look upon it 


340 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


without the ecstatic feeling that I anticipated when first 
thinking of taking the trip. Our arrival, coming ashore, and 
meeting Sister Devore, bringing with us as we did so many 
tokens of love from her friends in the home land, was the 
bright spot in the distance which loomed up with a halo 
about it. But the “enchantment” that distance often “lends 
to the view” had of late been fading away, and I could not 
feel that such greeting was anywhere near, and almost be¬ 
gan to feel lonesome, thinking possibly they might be away. 
Still the coconut trees were a welcome sight. The stars and 
stripes were unfurled at the masthead, but the sun was 
sinking, and after getting within six miles from the Papeete 
pass,—^between the coral reefs,—seeing the smoke ascending 
from where the natives were cooking their evening meal, also 
the lighthouses lit up, we had to put back to sea again for 
the night, for there was no pilot boat in sight. It was some¬ 
thing of a disappointment, but we all would rather enter 
the harbor in the daylight. 

At early dawn we were in sight of the lighthouse point, 
and kept standing nearer and nearer the pass, and got nearly 
to the entrance of the pass before a pilot boat came out. One 
of the brethren was in the boat, but we did not know it at 
the time. The breeze dropped away and the natives towed 
her into the harbor. As We glided leisurely along we enjoyed 
seeing some large buildings, various kinds of trees, some 
with bright flowers on them, a few vessels that were in the 
harbor, with them the City of Papeete that left San Fran¬ 
cisco a week later than we did, and also men and women 
moving about in light, cool-looking attire. We came to anchor 
near the shore where the heat was intense. 

We had learned from the pilot that Brother and Sister 
Devore were on another island, so Sister Case and I felt no 
special interest in going ashore, nor did we make any prep¬ 
arations for it, but contented ourselves with our disappoint¬ 
ment and with gazing at new sights ashore. The horses that 
trotted along the road were much smaller than most of our 
California horses, and the vehicles were a combination of 
American and Australian style. Was surprised to see two 
natives shoot past on bicycles. I had noticed a white man 
with two or three natives standing in a shady place watch¬ 
ing us very intently, but did not suppose he had any special 
interest in us. I had not thought that possibly Brother 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


341 


Gilbert might be here. When he saw that we did not land, 
he and the brethren came on board and told us that the sis¬ 
ters had gathered at his house with fruit and were waiting 
to receive us, so we made ready and went ashore. The ground 
acted as if it were dizzy, and we stumbled along as if we had 
lost the heels off our shoes. We both were so weak we could 
scarcely walk and had to hold to our husband’s arms for sup¬ 
port, which was a strange sight to the natives—^their hus¬ 
bands walk several yards ahead of them. Just before we 
reached Brother Gilbert’s, two sisters ran out in the street in 
front of us, bowed themselves, and shook hands very friendly. 
Their manner of obeisance is rather peculiar, and more easily 
imitated than written. 

At Brother Gilbert’s we met a very kind reception. The 
room was lined three tiers deep with the native sisters and a 
few little children; most of the children, though, were on the 
veranda. We passed around, one following the other and 
shaking hands with all. When we were seated in the chairs 
that had previously been arranged for us, the natives sat 
down too, some few on chairs, but the most sank naturally 
down on the floor tailor fashion. “Praise God from whom 
all blessings flow,” was sung in English, after which Brother 
Burton offered prayer. Then we requested the natives to 
sing; their accent and “prolongs” are very peculiar. By this 
time some of the brethren had slid in and taken their posi¬ 
tions on the floor, all barefoot, male and female. One of the 
men, “Pai,” sang with his whole body and beat time with his 
toes. Fruit was passed around, and' the rest of the time till 
noon was pleasantly spent in eating fruit, singing, and mak¬ 
ing very unsatisfactory efforts to talk with each other. 
Brother Gilbert interpreted for us, but he could not interpret 
for more than one at a time. At noon he motioned for them 
to withdraw while he got some dinner. The native men 
cooked our supper. The men do all the cooking in this coun¬ 
try. At first they cooked for us, but now that we live ashore 
altogether and do not eat when they do, we do our own 
cooking on an oil stove; that is, we boil rice and fry ham, 
bananais, and feis; but at night the natives boil or fry us 
some fresh fish. They are good, clean cooks, and a very 
kind-hearted people. I like all the dishes they have made 
and brought to us except roasted feis; I like them fried. 
Friday evening was their testimony meeting night and all 


342 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


enjoyed the meeting. They sing a good deal in their testi¬ 
mony meetings. It (the singing) was both interesting and 
amusing until we became a little familiar with their manner. 

On Sunday the first meeting was at seven a. m. Metuaore 
preached. Seemed to have good liberty and a good degree of 
the Spirit. Most all the Saints of this branch live quite 
near the church, and all went home after meeting, and gath¬ 
ered at ten again, and Brother Gilbert preached in the native 
tongue, after which there was Sunday school, a very interest¬ 
ing school if one can judge by the appearance. After Sun¬ 
day school all proceeded to the brink of the ocean and Brother 
Gilbert baptized a native man and wife, and the young man 
that came out with us, Mr. McGrath. 

It all looked very beautiful, that placid tide, the clear sun¬ 
shine, and the cool breeze, and the line of white breakers 
away out on the outer edge of the coral reefs. Baptism 
being over, all repaired to their homes till three in the after¬ 
noon, for it was only noon when the baptism was over. We 
got lunch and had opportunity to rest and read. 

At three p. m. was sacrament and testimony meeting, and 
in the evening Brother Burton preached in English. The 
Reverend Mr. Henry and wife were out to meeting, also two 
other white people. The church is quite large and very 
good. A large bell hangs to a coconut tree right at the end 
of the church. This is promptly rung at the time for gather¬ 
ing. The last hymn the natives sang in the sacrament meet¬ 
ing was, “0 think of the friends over there.” They had sung 
it twice before, and after meeting was out, I went and took 
hold of one of the sisters’ hands and sang the chorus in their 
language with her. 

The Saints here have moved the house that Brother Smith 
occupied down near the church, and have fitted it up for 
Brother and Sister Case; a nice, roomy, comfortable house. 
We, Joseph and I, are domiciled in Brother Devore’s house, 
right close to Brother Gilbert’s. We all go there to cook and 
eat, but sleep, write, and receive visitors in here. The little 
melodeon that stood silent all the voyage has been made to 
talk since it came ashore, and is a great attraction to the 
natives. They could scarcely contain themselves the first 
time Sister Alice played and sang. They crowded in the 
house, filled up the windows, and packed on the veranda. 

Brother Gilbert has school in the church on Tuesday eve- 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


343 


nings, and this week has had what they term “the school of 
the prophets’* in his house every forenoon. Brother and 
Sister Case, Brother Burton, and Brother McGrath are his 
scholars. He is teaching them the language, and says they 
are very apt scholars. 

The sisters have their Prayer Union on Thursday after¬ 
noon. Sister Case and I met with them. There were some¬ 
thing over two dozen at the meeting, but it is given to testi¬ 
mony instead of prayer. A large majority have their Bibles 
with them and in speaking they refer to them, reading pas¬ 
sages. It looked very interesting and I should like to have 
understood them. They requested me before we met to lead 
their meeting and have Brother Gilbert come and interpret, 
but I preferred to witness their meeting conducted in their 
style, and see now that they would not have understood about 
the subjects or memory texts. 

After the Thursday meeting the sisters of this branch and 
some from another island, and some who were not members 
at all, came to the house and said they had a present for all 
who had come in the boat, and wished to have Brethren 
Scott, Niemann, and McGrath sent for. One of the brethren 
went down to send them up and stay by the boat in their 
stead, during which time they collected in Brother Devore’s 
house where we are, and got seated. The house and veranda 
were well filled, and the brethren looked'in at the windows, 
all sitting on the fioor, of course. A document was pre¬ 
sented by Haua to Brother Gilbert to read, on which was a 
long list of names, twenty-nine in all, of those who had con¬ 
tributed towards the gift, which was a nice bamboo hat for 
each of us. Sister Case’s and mine had a band and cluster 
of flowers, made by the natives, of the finest bamboo, pure 
white, and looks much like blown glass. After the presenta¬ 
tion and due acknowledgments were made and responded to, 
the “Evanelia” (verses composed by Brother Forscutt) was 
sung. Sister Case accompanying with her little melodeon. 
Then the natives sang a piece or two and dispersed, all feel¬ 
ing very joyous and happy. They sing a number of our 
hymns, also “God be with you till we meet again.” They 
seem to try to avoid showing any partiality. Last evening 
Tatehau came in with one of the expensive hats like they had 
given Brother Case the day after our arrival, and insisted 
on Joseph taking it. 


344 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


I like the place very much. One does not feel uncomforta¬ 
bly warm when dressed for the climate—if he does not exert 
himself too much. It is much cooler than in San Benito or San 
Bernardino. It is here, like at home; once in awhile they 
have a rift of a few hot days, and sometimes some real cool 
ones. We came in on one of the hot waves. Since the first 
few days it has been comfortably cool. The nights are not 
so hot as in the Middle and Eastern States. The water is 
soft as rain water and good tasting, but quite warm. It is 
brought from the mountains and gets warm while coming. 
The soil down on the flat here is gravelly, and salt grass just 
like California, and the ground all about here, so near the 
ocean, is just perforated with holes such as the squirrels 
make in California, but they are made by large crabs instead 
of squirrels. The mountain soil is of a very deep red, and 
grows the most delicious, sweet, juicy oranges I ever tasted. 
Fruits of all kinds that grow here are scarce and expensive 
now just in this season. But we get plenty to eat, and have 
eaten it pretty freely, for we will not be here long. Yester¬ 
day we all took a long walk in the afternoon. It was cool 
and cloudy after a good shower of rain at noon. Oh, but it 
does rain here when once started! I do like a climate where 
there are one or two showers of rain a week. During our 
walk we saw great trees of mangoes and breadfruit and 
some others that we did not know the names of, besides co¬ 
conuts and bananas, that the roads are lined with on both 
sides wherever you go. The oleanders and castor-beans 
looked quite natural. Some of the umbrella trees were a 
perfect mat of large red flowers and looked very pretty. The 
breadfruit trees grow as large as our California live oaks, 
and the leaf a deep green like it, but shaped more like the 
sycamore, not exactly though, and is much larger. Most of 
the streets are shaded by some kind of large trees that grow 
very high and so branchy at the top that they almost form 
a canopy overhead—do join each other in many places. 
Some of those are the tamarind and locust trees. The natives 
here all wear light and cool clothing. They seem to have 
entirely abandoned the costume of our first parents. The 
“mother hubbard” is universally worn by all females, big and 
little, black and white. They are not so bunchy about the 
waist as we make them, and flow out more towards the bot¬ 
tom of the skirt. 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


345 


The fruits that grow here are coconuts, pineapples, oranges, 
bananas, feis (much like a banana), mangoes, breadfruit, 
limes, and two other kinds; one resembles the fei, and the 
other a Chinese plum. 

The Saints here are making great preparations for the 
April conference and are very anxious for us to stay. We 
would like to very much, indeed, but duty calls Brother Bur¬ 
ton home. It would not be any cross for us to stay here a year; 
i. e., here in Tahiti, but this is the very best place in the 
mission and we are guests. 

On Thursday of this week, which will be the 13th, the 
Evanelia will be duly under the French flag and a new cap¬ 
tain and crew, and will start that day, with all who came here 
in her, and Brother Gilbert besides, for the island where 
Brother and Sister Devore are. 


CHAPTER 18 


T he officers of the French Government were not favor¬ 
ably disposed towards the Evanelia and did not want her 
to sail in their waters and did all that their law would per¬ 
mit them to do to prevent her from having the French flag. 
She could not be left there under the American flag; was 
not even allowed to lift her anchor to change position in the 
harbor. 

Captain Burton was told in plain words to take his vessel 
and go back to America; but he was undaunted; he had 
brought the little “gospel boat” there to leave for the mis¬ 
sionaries, and was determined to do it, if any process of law 
would permit him to. About six weeks of time was devoted 
to that end, and he accomplished his purpose. 

The day after the mail packet sailed for San Francisco, 
the Evanelia, through a diligent business process, became 
freed from all embarrassments and ready to start on a tour 
to the Paumotus. We then learned that the newly arrived 
missionaries were not permitted to take passage on her, 
whereupon they were advised by the American consul that 
they, in company with Brother Gilbert, should appear in per¬ 
son before the governor and request permission to sail on the 
Evanelia, which permission was granted on condition that 
they neither “preach nor teach.” 

We designed first to visit the island of Niau where Brother 
and Sister Devore were when last heard from. This island 
is one hundred and eighty miles from Tahiti in a north¬ 
easterly direction. When we boarded the Evanelia Sister 
Case and I looked at one another in dismay at the appear¬ 
ance of our trim little schooner, and when we learned of the 
numbers of natives going with us, we involuntarily expressed 
a hope that we would have a quick passage. There is only 
sleeping accommodations in the cabin for eight, but by 
spreading mattresses in the few available places on deck, it 
was supposed that she might carry thirteen on a short trip, 
including the crew. But here were sixteen natives, men, 
women, and children, and six of us Americans, making 
twenty-two in all. Scarcely a spot of the Evanelia was vis¬ 
ible. All round the after part the rail was first lined with 
sugar-cane, then hung full, inside and out, with great stalks 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


347 


of feis and bananas, baskets of mangoes, limes, and bread¬ 
fruit; and all available places on deck, in the “cockpit,” and 
a portion of the seats around it, were monopolized with boxes 
and baskets, some movable and some immovable. A canoe 
was placed between the house and the main rigging, and that 
also was full. Some of the women took up their quarters for 
the trip on the house and stuck to it well. Several of the 
men were destined to sit up all night for want of a place to 
lie down. All the native sisters of Tahiti accompanied us to 
the beach, and as many as could conveniently, came on board 
and remained during the few hours delay in the harbor. 

I, beginning to feel a very confused sensation in the head 
by the sight of such a muddle and the noisy talking that al¬ 
ways attends a gathering of any people, and much more so 
where the language only confuses instead of conveys ideas, 
turned to the cabin for relief of sight and sound. But, if 
possible, that was more crowded than the deck. Trunks, rolls 
of bedding, valises, baskets, and boxes—in fact, with personal 
property of almost every variety from a melodeon to a fry¬ 
ing pan, and hats enough to supply a small colony. I learned 
that when the natives went on boats they took about all their 
movable possessions with them and the missionaries had to do 
the same. But notwithstanding the feeling that there were 
“too many of we” on board, we parted sorrowfully with some 
who were left behind; for by their many acts of kindness 
towards us they had endeared themselves to us, and the tears 
welled up to our eyes as well as of theirs as they held our 
hand clasped tight in both of theirs and looked what could 
not be exchanged between us in words, neither understanding 
the language of the other. 

The fair wind that had been blowing for two days dropped 
away to a dead calm before we got out of the harbor. This 
had been seen by our friends on the shore and presently a 
large boat shot past us, propelled by six stalwart sons of the 
island, who took our bowline and towed us out beyond the 
reef until we struck the breeze that had sprung up outside. 
We all felt very grateful to them for such a favor and 
Brethren Burton, Gilbert, and Case waved their hats and 
cheered them as they pulled past us back towards the shore. 
Yes, there was a strong breeze, but it came from the regular 
tradewind point, which was right ahead, so we were obliged 
to start out in an opposite direction from what we intended. 


348 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


When we were fairly at sea Brother Gilbert went below to see 
if he could bring “order out of chaos,” but all that could be 
done was to pack things a little closer, put a few out of the 
way, and walk over the rest. 

The sea was rough, and the wind increased, and before 
long the women and children, and some of the men, including 
the cook, were seasick. Well, for ten days we beat against 
wind and current, accompanied with heavy squalls of both 
wind and rain. When the rain squalls came up the natives 
would come down. Some nights it rained all night, or a large 
portion of the day. Then, oh, my! I felt like one among a 
packed coop of fowls; but fowls had the advantage of a little 
better ventilation. Slides and skylights had to be closed, for 
in those regions “it never rains but it poitrs.” Those natives 
were all brothers and sisters in the church—except the cook 
—and were good people, though not the tidiest in appearance. 
Still that did not prevent the odor and heat of their bodies 
from being almost suffocatingly unpleasant. I asked Brother 
Gilbert if it was usual for such a crowd to go. “Crowd?” 
he said, “why this is only a few. I have been in boats where 
the house and deck would be literally packed.” 

But whether it rained or shone they were always up and 
dressed, children and all, in time to have their morning wor¬ 
ship at the dawning of the day. If rainy, the service was 
held in the cabin, and I must acknowledge that we more en¬ 
lightened (?) Saints were more than once awakened from 
our morning nap by the voice of their peculiarly plaintive 
sounding song that was chanted softly when in the cabin. 
Brother Gilbert proved himself a shepherd to the flock by 
cooking and caring for them when their native cook was sea¬ 
sick. I am sure I saw the contest going on in his mind be¬ 
fore undertaking the task, as he sat buried in deep thought. 
I seemed to see the questions come to the surface; i. e., “Shall 
I take the position of servant to this people in a temporal as 
well as a spiritual sense and cook and wait on them, or let 
them look out for themselves as they do in their own boats? 
Surely there is discomfort enough to be endured here without 
such an addition!” But their forlorn condition appealed to his 
better nature, and casting from him the disinclination, he 
sprang up and put on a pot of beans to boil for them. And as 
night set in wet and quite chilly, he brought an old man, feeble 
with age, who had sat in the same place two days and nights. 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


349 


down in the cabin, loaned him some of his own clothes so he 
Avould be clean, and let him occupy the back part of the berth 
that he and Brother McGrath occupied, not only that night, 
but until we got into port, the result of which was that both 
he and Brother McGrath had to take their chances elsewhere. 
Two nights when too wet to sleep on deck Brother McGrath 
had to put his mattress on the table and sleep there because 
there was no other place found for it. I note all these par¬ 
ticulars that the reader may know something of the liabilities 
of the missionary’s life, and where the trial and demand for 
patience comes in. It is not a trial nor a cross to teach the 
principles of the gospel, that are so readily received and so 
eagerly devoured, at least by those in the church, that it 
must be a real pleasure to teach them; but to be patient and 
pleasant and maintain the decorum of a servant of the Good 
Shepherd under those and like trying circumstances, is quite 
another side of the missionary’s life. 

The native captain had a certificate, but it was obtained of 
course under Tahitian laws; for he knew nothing about get¬ 
ting his latitude by the sun nor finding his position on the 
map, neither of “heaving the log” to ascertain his rate of 
speed. He, like all the rest of them, knew where the islands 
were and each one when he saw it; and it is a custom to 
sight all the islands intervening between their point of start¬ 
ing and destination, and thus they are sure of their where¬ 
abouts. So after ten days of contending against tryingly 
adverse winds which veered from time to time to the most 
unfavorable points, we succeeded in reaching the line of the 
Paumotus; and since we had to pass close by Kaukura, it was 
considered best to stop there and land the passengers des¬ 
tined for that place, also to ascertain if by any chance Brother 
and Sister - Devore had got to that island. Brother Gilbert 
went ashore in the first boat for that purpose. One or two 
natives were already on the beach, and when the boat re¬ 
turned it brought the news that Brother and Sister Devore 
were there, and Brother Gilbert went up to the town to ap¬ 
prise them of our coming. This was joyful news, for we were 
all tired of our sea voyage, especially Sister Case, who was 
very seasick, though v/e would much liked to have visited 
Niau. 

There is .no harbor or anchoring ground at Kaukura and 
many others of those low islands, and the landing and get- 


350 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


ting off again is sometimes quite an exciting affair. The 
vessel runs as near the coral reef—which surrounds all these 
islands—as is safe, and the passengers have to go ashore in 
the boat and take their chances with the breakers and surf. 
The day we landed the sea was smooth near the island, and 
the native brother who propelled the boat had no trouble in 
picking his way around the rocks, or going over them as the 
boat was borne up on the inrolling swell. And when she 
grounded yet some distance from the water’s edge several 
brethren came to our assistance. These men do not mind 
getting their feet wet, but they never permit the American 
Saints to step in the water. So one took my two-hundred- 
and-twenty-seven-pound husband on his back and walked off 
with him as a matter of course, while our boatman, a modern 
giant, set me on his arm as if I had been a baby and carried 
me to dr^^ land where we were met by Brother and Sister De¬ 
vore and a large group of natives that had come to welcome 
us. 

Kaukura, I believe, is not the lowest among the Paumotus 
and the soil is much the same as the coarse white sand of the 
beach, only a little better packed; but I thought it a lovely 
place as we all walked along ’neath the shady coconut trees. 
It had a clean, cool appearance and the frame houses were 
painted and looked clean and nice. We were conducted up 
the broad, white stone steps of one of the most spacious resi¬ 
dences in the town where Brother and Sister Devore were 
residing during their stay at the island, on the porch of 
which were placed three large cane-seat rockers and a num¬ 
ber of armchairs into which our weak party sank with grate¬ 
ful hearts. Then each one was provided with a large, freshly 
picked coconut from which we drank copiously. I never be¬ 
fore saw such large coconuts. They must have held a quart 
of the palatable liquid. A bowl was set by each chair in 
which to deposit the coconut till we wished to drink again. 
The natives who had accompanied us to the house, formed a 
semicircle in sitting posture on the ground in front of the 
house, watching our every movement, and only too glad when 
there was an opportunity to replace a drained coconut with a 
full one. We only had three and a half days to stay, and 
one half of the three was devoted to religious services; 
so my time for gathering shells was limited, but Sister Case 
would have other opportunities, consequently most of those 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


351 


obtained were gathered from the generous hands of the 
Saints. 

We found an excellent spirit among the Saints on that is¬ 
land, and all seemed to be alive to the work. We all were 
treated most kindly. Of the three meetings we attended 
one was the sisters’ Thursday afternoon meeting—not exactly 
a prayer union—which was, I think, in advance of any of its 
kind I ever attended. There were a goodly number present. 
Almost everyone brought her Bible and I was not a little sur¬ 
prised to learn how well acquainted they were with its con¬ 
tents. The time was promptly occupied, and each one took 
her leading thought from the lesson that was read at the 
opening of the meeting and readily turned to or quoted pas¬ 
sages in various parts of the Scriptures in reference to or 
explanatory of the same subject. Nor was it studied up for 
the occasion, (right here I made a mistake; each sister had 
her own portion of Scripture studied for the occasion) for I 
selected the reading lesson myself, after being invited to lead 
the meeting. Sister Devore acted as interpreter. She made 
the statement at the close of the meeting that she never 
heard more able prayers offered up even by elders than were 
by three of the sisters that day, pleading for more light and 
knowledge concerning the gospel of salvation. 

But the ^‘good-by” meeting, held in the forenoon of the day 
we left the island, was the best of all. Their church is quite 
large and it was packed full, with several standing at the 
windows; and let me say here that they have no need of win¬ 
dow glasses in those islands, nor do they have any in any of 
their churches that I saw, but only the cases or frames and 
shutters. This was a real reunion meeting—prayer and testi¬ 
mony. Many from two of the nearest islands came, a boat 
being sent for them. Everybody was happy, for the good 
Spirit of the Lord filled all hearts. No need to urge anyone 
to “occupy the time”; it was being made the most of. The 
gifts—tongues, interpretation, and prophecy—were exercised, 
and many times the whole congregation were moved to tears. 
Good, faithful Brother Devore wept like a child. His joy 
was almost more than he could contain. That meeting will 
ever be a bright spot on memory’s walls, about which our 
thoughts will delight to linger. The kind-hearted Saints 
brought their offerings of money and shells and placed them 
on the table till after meeting, then were distributed accord- 


352 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


ing to their intentions. The shells were mostly from the chil¬ 
dren who listened with great interest while Brother Burton 
told them how the children in America contributed to the 
boat fund, and how, many of them, obtained their money. 
The brethren plead earnestly, both in meeting and in private 
conversation, for us to remain at the islands long enough to 
visit all the branches, which pleading of course had to be 
answered in the negative. I must here inform the reader 
that Brother Burton had become sufficiently acquainted with 
the language to understand, and make himself understood in 
ordinary talk, though many connecting words were left out 
or not understood. 

Our meeting lasted from nine till twelve, then as soon as 
we got a bite of dinner (eating is there considered to be of 
secondary importance, and gone through with more as a mat¬ 
ter of necessity than of enjoyment), we made hasty prepara¬ 
tions for getting on board the Evanelia again, which had been 
beating about in front of the island all the while we were 
ashore. It had been arranged by the missionaries that we 
should go up to Niau for a day or two, and Brother and Sis¬ 
ter Case would remain there, thence we would go to Makatea 
for a day, and on to Papeete in time to take passage home on 
the Tropic Bird. Sister Devore was to accompany us, since 
she wished to visit those two last-named islands before con¬ 
ference. Brother McGrath was to remain in Kaukura with 
Brother Devore. And Brother Gilbert was to proceed as 
soon as opportunity offered to another island. 

The day we left was not a favorable one for getting over 
the “reef.” There had been a gale of wind the night be¬ 
fore and the sea that was “mountains high,” came tumbling- 
in over the reef in a manner not witnessed for.a number of 
years. When we reached the shore we looked upon it in dis¬ 
may; at least we women folks did, and some of the men 
thought it dangerous. A captain of a trading vessel. Cap¬ 
tain Salmons, a native of Tahiti, whose schooner was beat¬ 
ing about outside, thought so too, and would not undertake to 
take us through the breakers, but offered his good, big boat 
for that purpose, without which we could not have gone. The 
wind was fair for Niau, and our time being limited, Joseph 
thought we had better go. 

The islanders, with a “picked man” at their head, in whom 
we had all confidence, volunteered to get us on board. Be- 




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BEATRICE WITHERSPOON AT SEVENTY YEARS, 






BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


353 


cause of the number that were going, both to our vessel and 
that of Captain Salmons, and all having- more or less bag¬ 
gage, it was necessary to make two trips, so the baggage 
was sent first. It was no easy matter for those men to hold 
that large boat where she could be kept afloat against the in¬ 
rolling sea and boiling surf while she was being loaded. Six 
or eight men were holding on to her at each side, sometimes 
in water up to their necks, and being surged in towards the 
shore. Then again it would only be knee deep and being 
drawn towards the reef. At length she was loaded and 
manned and we watched them excitedly as they pulled to¬ 
wards the reef and then hastily backwards again several 
times, dodging the breakers, which really seemed to follow 
each other in more rapid succession than before. 

But even the angry waters take their breathing spell, and 
when the recede took place the boat shot forward and crosised 
the reef, and sank from our view in the great hollow of the 
waters on the other side without even being bespattered with 
spray, which made us feel all the more confident when our 
turn should come. But the winds and waves in that quarter 
of the globe seem to be a living, knowing, antagonistic power, 
and if outwitted, so to speak, in any instance, they seek re¬ 
venge. So as we all stood watching the boat, some within and 
some outside the stone wall that had been erected years ago 
on that side of the island to protect it from the sea in time 
of heavy gales, a heavy roller came tumbling in over the reef. 
We were far above the high water mark, but seeing it was 
coming in farther than the others had, we jumped back a step 
or two, then all turned and fled through the opening in the 
wall only just in time to keep clear of a wetting; a portion 
of the surf also rushing within the wall. 

All the Saints on the island accompanied us to the beach, 
and now came the handshaking and the oft-repeated word 
“la ora na,” which means to invoke blessings on the person 
spoken to. I began to grow weak before it was over, and felt 
a strong sympathy for the Presidents of the United States 
on inauguration days. When the last dark but friendly hand 
had been clasped, I hurried to the water’s edge, for nearly all 
were in the boat, and was picked up by the kind brother who 
had given up his house and bed to us during our stay, and 
who was then our pilot, and was carried to and placed in the 
after part of the boat, he taking his place at the tiller. Then 


354 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


for awhile the same mode of procedure was gone through 
with as before, of pulling back and forth while the breakers 
crashed and boiled over the reef sending their spray far up 
in the air while their foaming waters came sudsing about 
the boat. At length the word was given to pull forward with 
all speed, the pilot urging his men with every breath, but 
just as we went on the inner edge of the ledge an unlooked- 
for comber rose right in front of us. It was too late to pull 
back, “so,” thought I, “ we are in for it now,” as I saw the 
green wall of water. But our trusty helmsman did his work 
well, and apart from a good shower bath there was no harm 
done. 

As I said before, the boat belonged to the trading vessel 
outside, whose captain and crew were then with us, so only 
our pilot had to return to the shore. This we did not realize 
till when safely over the reef. He hurriedly shook hands 
with the few nearest him, and threw himself into the sea 
to swim ashore. For a moment he lay on his side and waved 
us a good-by, then disappeared among the breakers. When 
next the boat arose upon a sea he was discovered within the 
shallow waters of the lagoon, walking ashore. 

Again we started for Niau, but I think we were not to go 
there, for in a few hours the elements arrayed themselves 
against us. After contending some eighteen hours it became 
evident that we should not have time to work up to it, and 
all agreed to the proposition made by Brother Burton to 
square away for Makatea. Brother Case made the remark 
that he “would like to be on board the Evanelia with a fair 
wind once more.” 

We had one more passenger than was designed when the 
program was made out. Brother McGrath thinking that the 
boat would return to the shore again went off in her to get a 
few articles belonging to Brother Gilbert and himself from 
the Evanelia and “got left,” as the saying is, so he remained 
with Brother and Sister Case at Makatea. We landed there 
on Sunday about noon. The wind was blowing fresh and a 
good big sea on. Our boat being small it was deemed safest 
for only two to go ashore at a time. There is no lagoon 
around this island; the coral reef skirts the shore and rises 
■so abruptly from the sea that one foot from the ledge the 
water has the same deep blue shade as that of the rest of the 
ocean, consequently must be much the same depth, and the 


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ELDER J. F. BURTON. 
Husband of Beatrice Witherspoon. 










BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


355 


sea rolls up on the ledge and breaks with such force as to 
render it very unfavorable for landing in rough weather. 
The native captain thought we would not be able to land that 
day unless we went around to the leeward of the island, but 
all were willing to make the effort. Brother McGrath and 
Sister Devore—who had less dread of the breakers than of 
seasickness—eagerly sought the first boat. The natives, who 
are almost as familiar with the surf as a fish is with water, 
are equal to any emergency, and with “Kihoura” for our 
boatman—he whom I called the modern giant—I felt all 
right; for if the boat upset he could sieze one under each 
arm and swim ashore with his feet. 

In going in on the ledge with the boat they keep just back 
of the breaking point of the sea that they go in on, until it 
breaks, then one or two quick, powerful strokes of the oars 
sends the boat flying through the surf up between two rows of 
men who are standing in the water waiting to grasp the boat, 
crew and all, and run with her to high water mark before 
another breaker has time to reach and break over her. 

Makatea is a small island, high, long, and narrow; or, I 
might more properly say, it is a huge rock. A large portion 
at each end is bold, high, and precipitous; but for a mile or so 
of the center it has the appearance of having crumbled away 
and taken a slide nearly to the water’s edge. Upon this slop¬ 
ing side, and much of the top also, a rich soil has formed 
which is covered with verdure and a thick growth of coconut 
trees. In some places are orange and lime trees, also guavas, 
custard apple, pineapples, and other fruits. 

As one nears the island, the rocky part has a very peculiar 
appearance unlike any rocky bluff that I ever saw before, re¬ 
sembling dark colored pumice stone or frozen earth that the 
frost has thrown up and left on a gauzy looking underpinning. 
So this looked to be half rock and half air cells, which air 
cells looked to be large enough to admit of a person wend¬ 
ing his way in among them. Such was the appearance as 
we neared it from the sea. I should like to have had a closer 
view of those parts of it. This island is very peculiar and 
would be a study for scientists. Jumping at a conclusion 
though, one would say it had been thrown up from a huge 
subterranean volcano in its partially molten condition and 
cooled too suddenly to change form. Upon the top where there 
is no soil it is simply indescribable. In such places there is 


356 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


only a footpath, and even that had been difficult to construct 
since only sharp points of rock like spindles reached the sur¬ 
face end, and the space between had to be filled in. I shud¬ 
dered at times as I glanced down from either side of the path 
and concluded that a fall down in those depths could scarcely 
be other than fatal; not because of the distance, but because 
of the numerous sharp points of rock that stood upright and 
varied in length and size, some as sharp at the point as an 
icicle and black like a charred stick. Those places viewed 
from the top were strikingly like the ruins of an immense 
building of many walls close together and of varied thick¬ 
nesses that had taken fire all over at the same time and the 
fire extinguished before its work was any more than half done, 
leaving the ruins in a charred and blackened state. Holes in 
the walls in some places, both large and small; beams and 
uprights, scooped out in the center with the four sharp cor¬ 
ners still remaining; stanchions burned to a spindle in some 
places and gouged out in others. Let the reader fancy all 
these irregularities and he will have a faint idea of this pe¬ 
culiar-looking rock. It is as hard as adamant; no such 
thing as scaling a piece from it. But I am anticipating. 

Here again we found the native Saints assembled at one 
house to meet and welcome us, the floor of a large room liter¬ 
ally packed with them. They seemed to enjoy looking at us, 
and we at them, and with occasional assistance from Sister 
Devore we could talk considerable, for all had learned a little 
of the language. Sister Devore had not many spare moments, 
I assure you. She was preparing the Sunday school exercises 
for the coming conference. And it almost makes my head 
swim to think of all she accomplished while we were there, or 
at least until Monday night. Besides talking, and interpret¬ 
ing, and attending two meetings, she selected Scripture les¬ 
sons for a number of classes according to their ability and 
translated some of the lessons and mapped out her program. 
On Monday afternoon Pohemiti preached, after which she 
formed the whole in line ready for marching, by selecting first 
the standard bearers on each side, then children of equal 
height from three years old, and had them arranged in a 
gradual slope up to the full-grown persons, and the “full- 
grown” persons were arranged according to their size too, 
for some had “grown” a great deal “fuller” than others; for 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


357 


it is here like Mr. Ballou said of the Hawaiians: “To be fat 
is considered the proper thing.” 

On account of Sister Devore having so much to do we could 
not leave there on Monday afternoon as we had intended, so 
the captain, who had taken the Evanelia to the leeward of 
the island, was notified to be around where we could board 
her early in the morning. At daylight Tuesday morning we 
we were up and dressed, looking for our ship, but there was 
no ship in sight and only a very, very light breeze of wind. 
Our breakfast was prepared by a native brother, and con¬ 
sisted of baker’s bread,—dark and sour,—canned fresh beef, 
orange leaf tea, the darkest of dark brown sugar, and a tiny 
tin coffee pot of very weak coffee. Had we stayed there a 
month or a year the breakfast would have been the same; 
for they make no changes. Possibly, though, there may not 
always have been beef. That day or more than half of it 
was not pleasantly spent. It was simply worn away with 
waiting and watching for our vessel. She came in sight 
around the end of the island about nine o’clock, but having 
to beat, and the wind light, she made slow headway, and at 
one p. m. was not much nearer than when we first sighted her. 
However, she was sending the boat ashore, so it was resolved 
to send a man out in a canoe to meet the boat and send back 
word to the captain to tack ship and go back to the lee side 
of the island. We would walk across, a distance of three 
miles, and meet the vessel on the other side. 

While we made ready, the Saints were assembled together 
on a level green plat in the center of the village, by two 
strokes on a large bell that hangs to a tree opposite the 
“green.” We joined them as soon as possible and a short 
but very affecting service was held. The president of the 
branch gave a brief address, when the natives sang, after 
which Pohemiti offered prayer, at the close of which Brother 
Burton standing with outstretched arms commended our 
missionaries who were to remain there to our heavenly 
Father’s special care, and pleaded for the same care in our 
behalf who were again going upon the adverse waters,—and 
his blessings upon the Saints who had ministered so willingly 
to us; and after singing “Praise God from whom all bless¬ 
ings flow,” and shaking hands all around again, quite a party 
of us took‘up our line of march to cross the island. Five 
only were going on the boat, but several of the native 


358 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


brethren and sisters accompanied us to see us off and carrj^ 
our cumbersome valises. Brother and Sister Case were go¬ 
ing part way with us. 

I can close my eyes now and see the band of pilgrims as 
they appeared while climbing the mountain in single file, men 
with poles across their shoulders, heavily laden at each end 
with fowls and baskets of fruit, and women with their al¬ 
lotted portions to carry. The ascent is short but it is steep 
in places as stairs, where steps have been chipped out of the 
rock. At the base of the mountain a few of us stepped aside 
to take a peep into a cave in the side of that rock mountain, 
where a spring of water is said to be at the bottom. It was 
like standing on the lower jaw of a gigantic walrus and peer¬ 
ing into its throat. I looked down, down into the dark depth, 
but did not see the bottom, neither the spring of water. We 
had no time to linger, for our party was getting ahead of us, 
&o I will leave the cave for Sister Alice’s more ready pen to 
describe. 

When once on the top of the island the path across is level, 
with a slight decline to the brink, then the descent is far more 
steep than was the ascent. Step by step we went down this 
winding stone stairway into as pretty a coconut grove as one 
would wish to see. Our exit across was far too hurried for 
us who perhaps would never again have the opportunity of 
viewing such unusual scenery. 

The sun, that had been shining bright and hot all the fore 
part of the day clouded in as soon as we started, for which 
we felt very grateful, still the perspiration continued to ooze 
from every pore, as we marched on in single file. We soon be¬ 
came aware that we must quicken our pace, for a rain squall 
was making up. Our haste, though, availed us nothing, for 
the rain came and wet us, and the sun came and dried us be¬ 
fore we got across. But it did not dry the grass that grew 
on either side of our path, which was partly shaded by coco¬ 
nut trees, nor the prickly-edged leaves that had fallen from 
them, which kept our skirts wet nearly to our knees, notwith¬ 
standing our efforts to the contrary. But that linen dress of 
mine had been wet more than once. It was the same one I 
had on when Mr. Burton and I fell in the river while going 
to Brother Buckman’s, in Nambucca, Australia. 

When we reached the sun-bathed shore we were much dis¬ 
appointed in finding that the Evanelia was not yet in sight. 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


359 


During the rain squall (which took place about the time the 
captain tacked ship) the wind had hauled, so our poor little 
ship was destined to beat her way back again. The native 
brethren understanding that it would be night before we got 
on board very thoughtfully sought about getting something 
for us to eat. While two of them were preparing—^that is, 
killing and cleaning—^three of the fowls that were brought 
along, a third brother got the native oven hot, ready to bake 
them, and to him we will give our attention. He scooped 
out a place on the ground in which he placed first some light 
stuff for kindling, such as coconut cloth and dry leaves, then 
heavier pieces—husks and coconut shells and bits of wood, 
until he had quite a little mound. Over these he put a thick 
layer of smooth stones nearly the size of an egg. He knew 
well how to arrange it all so that it would be sure to burn 
without a second effort when the light was applied, and that 
was the most interesting part to us to know how he was going 
to light it without matches. He gathered some strips of coco¬ 
nut cloth, some of the very gauzy kind and some thicker, 
took two sticks, split one and rubbed the point of the other 
one up and down in the center until it emitted little sparks of 
fire. This he let drop on the finest coconut cloth and swung 
it back and forth till it began to smoke, then he quickly 
wrapped another thicker piece about it, keeping it swinging 
all the while, and in a moment or two he had a blazing torch 
that was placed under his ‘^pier,” and soon all was ablaze. 
When the fuel had burned away it left a bed of hot rocks in 
the hollow they had made and the earth all around it was 
hot also; then the chickens were rolled in coconut leaves 
and laid on the hot rocks and covered so thickly with leaves 
and sacks that no steam could escape. 

In this shady coconut grove the ground was literally cov¬ 
ered with red-legged shellfish as large as a man’s hand, crawl¬ 
ing about in every direction carrying their shell house on 
their backs; great, ugly-looking fellows they were, but when 
touched they suddenly withdrew in their house, which was 
rough on the outside but within was like stained alabaster. 
I was too much overheated with our long walk to sit still 
and cool off, so walked leisurely around the beach with the 
hope of finding a few more shells, also to get dry in the sun 
before night came on. When the chickens were done and 
divided up, I inquired if there was any salt brought, for the 


360 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


sisters had brought bread and some cold meat. Sister De¬ 
vore said, “No, we don’t need salt here; come with me and I 
will show you how we season it.” She dipped her piece in 
the ocean, held it awhile in the sun, then dipped it again and 
it was salt enough. And how sweet that lunch of roast 
chicken and fresh baker’s bread tasted! The sunlight had 
given place to moonlight ere we left the shore, for Brother 
Burton, Sister Devore, and I had waited for the second boat. 
Here again the boatmen had to work their way cautiously 
through the surf, holding to the boat as little by little they 
edged her along till near enough to pull out with the receding 
wave, then those at the sides let go, and our faithful Kihaura 
with giant strokes took us safely out to the smooth sea. 
While this process was being gone through Sister Devore 
would occasionally pat me on the shoulder and say, “Don’t 
be afraid; they won’t upset the boat.” Here I will add that 
I had, on learning of the mode of getting to and from the 
islands, besought the Lord to remove from me that feeling of 
terror of the menacing waters that I have been a victim of 
ever since that terrible struggle in them many years ago. It 
was not that I feared we would lose our lives, but as Sister 
Tamza once said, I was only “afraid of being scared,” and 
the Lord had granted my request so that I could truthfully 
answer her that I was not at all afraid. 

The Evanelia was more than a mile off from shore and 
could not get any nearer, for the wind had died away alto¬ 
gether; there was not a ripple on the surface of the waters. 
As Kihaura bent to the oars on our way to the vessel, whose 
signal lights looked like stars in the distance, he said: “The 
Devil tries to make us all the trouble he can, but we will beat 
him.” The prospects the next morning for such a victory 
were not very bright, I thought, when, going on deck I dis¬ 
covered that we had made little or no progress during the 
night, and that as far as the eye could reach, the ocean had 
that glassy, oily appearance which indicates an extended 
calm. Being in the line of the trade winds, we hoped for a 
thirty-six-hour run, seeing we would have little enough time 
at that to prepare for our journey home; for the coming 
Monday was the day for the mail packet to leave Papeete. 
But here again we were detained by contrary elements in the 
form of a great calm. As day after day passed away, during 
which time the sun poured down upon us most unrelentingly. 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


361 


I mentally curtailed and condensed our preparations for home, 
at the same time trying to keep in subjection the feverish 
restlessness that was so hard to endure with any degree of 
cheerfulness; and to add to the discomfort I had to officiate 
as cook for us three Americans, since Brethren Gilbert, Case, 
and McGrath were left behind; and the heat was almost 
unbearable in our little cabin. We sailed a little at times, of 
course, but it was slow progress. 

Sister Devore, who had her bed on the house beneath an 
awning, was enjoying a little respite from seasickness. 
Though not well enough to sit up, she could converse, and 
many hours were pleasantly spent in hearing her relate her 
experience. She told us how such adversity, on the waters 
especially, had been their constant companion, and how un¬ 
availing all their prayers for special favors in that direction 
had seemed to be, though they received testimonies in other 
ways to assure them that they were neither forgotten nor un¬ 
cared for; so they had long since ceased to importune the 
Lord in regard to the winds or weather, but endeavored to 
take patiently whatever they might meet; to which I admitted 
to the same feeling of disinclination to make mention of it in 
prayer, that it seemed to me as if his Satanic majesty had 
a lease of those waters for a time at least; that his rights 
must be respected, and we must submit, and if the Lord did 
not preserve us from such adversity, he could and had taken 
care of us in it. I told her how on our way out it was shown 
me that it was not the Lord that was angry, but the “prince 
of the powers of the air; and,” I added, “I gather from what 
you say that one can not drift along on the surface here; they 
must either get above or go under.” “That’s just it. Sister 
Emma,” she said; “our trials were such, when we first came 
here, that it seemed that I should ‘go under,’ but by the grace 
of God I have got above them and have learned to submit 
patiently to whatever our circumstances may be, and I do not 
mind anything but the terrible seasickness. But now, since 
this boat has come, and her motions are so easy, and there is 
a stove, and I can have some hot drink and a cup of beef tea, 
I do not think I shall suffer as I have. And then,” she added, 
“I have this soft bed to lie on [turning up the corner of one 
of the hair mattresses belonging to the boat] and these nice 
blankets to cover over me in the night or when it rains; so 
I feel as if I were rich.” 


362 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


Slowly the week wore away. On Saturday morning the 
island of Tahiti was in view. In the morning we thought to 
reach it by noon, and by noon the middle of the afternoon, and 
so on till four o’clock had come and gone; then we learned if 
we were not in the harbor in time for the captain to enter his 
vessel at the customhouse before five o’clock, we could not take 
anything ashore till Monday morning and would have to get a 
permit from the customhouse to land ourselves. Then it be¬ 
came a race with time. How we all wanted to push on the 
house or the main boom to make her go faster! The nervous 
perspiration fairly stood out on our faces at the prospects of 
not getting our effects on shore till Monday morning. 

It was just two minutes past five when we dropped anchor 
in the bay. But when the captain came off the shore with 
our permit to land he also brought the cheering news that 
the mail packet had not yet arrived. It proved that the same 
calm that hindered us, detained her. She arrived about noon 
on Sunday. 

And now that we wanted fine weather for getting clothes 
dried, the rain poured down in torrents for three successive 
days; but we had five days in which to make our prepara¬ 
tions, so all was completed and on board when the packet was 
ready to sail. After our long sojourn in such a tiny ship, 
this barkentine appeared to be simply immense in her 
proportions, a second Great Eastern, and it seemed to me 
that her bows would reach San Francisco a long time before 
the man at the wheel would get there. And it was not until 
we got back in the neighborhood of pilot boats that I real¬ 
ized what a miniature ship we went out on. Those pilot 
boats were two thirds larger than the Evanelia, and yet they 
looked like toy boats when they sank in the hollow of the 
sea on the bar, which was only an ordinary sea. 

I must add that our home-coming was a succession of joy¬ 
ful greetings. None of the Saints knew of the arrival of the 
Tropic Bird till Mr. Burton and I walked into Sister Knight’s 
house and almost paralyzed them with joy. Word was sent to 
Oakland, and on Friday evening the Saints of both those 
branches met at Sister Knight’s and gave us a grand re¬ 
ception. A real program for the evening was prepared, 
which occupied the first part of the evening, after which 
Brother Burton gave an address in reference to the islands 
and islanders, their customs and peculiarities, also exhibit- 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


363 


ing the trophies we had brought home with us. Then re¬ 
freshments were had and the shells sent by Sister Devore 
were duly distributed and most gratefully received. All 
hearts were attuned to the feeling of thanksgiving and were 
joyous and happy. 

On our arrival in San Jose, the Saints there also met at 
the house of Brother and Sister J. C. Clapp to receive and 
welcome us back to our native land. The teardrops glistened 
in many an eye and voices trembled with grateful emotion, 
while the dear old hymn of ^‘Praise God from whom all bless¬ 
ings flow” was sung. Prayers of thanksgiving were offered 
up to the All-Father for his protecting care and manifest fa¬ 
vor in the many ways it was experienced while on that errand 
in behalf of the church. The evening was spent in pleasant 
conversation, interspersed with music—vocal and instrumen¬ 
tal. Vocal music was rendered by different individuals—in 
five languages besides English: Hawaiian, Tahitian, Chinese, 
Spanish, and German. Refreshments and fruit were served, 
after which Brother Burton spoke a few words in harmony 
with the sentiments of the evening and was responded to by 
Brother Clapp. After thanks had been returned to the Giver 
of all good gifts, the happy company dispersed. 

For two years after our return from the islands, I con¬ 
tinued to travel with my husband on his missionary tours 
through California. All up through the northern part by 
way of Lake County, Ukiah, and over the coast range of 
mountains to Fort Blair, Mendocino County, in a single 
horse buggy. It was a very interesting trip, but I will pass 
it by. 

The mission of the Evanelia was short lived, yet she was 
the stepping-stone of our being sent to the islands as mis¬ 
sionaries. When we left the islands, though after going in 
the Evanelia, I had no desire to return as a missionary's wife, 
but during the intervening two years, my thoughts and 
dreams often wandered back to the scenes and people of the 
islands. 

Along in the latter part of the year 1895 and the early 
part of 1896, and before we had thought very seriously of 
its ever being a reality, it seemed to get in the air that we 
were soon to return, and Mr. Burton was often confronted 
with such questions as, “Are you going to the islands after 
conference?” Or, “How soon do you think of going to the 


364 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


islands?” While at Upper Lake, just one year before we came 
out here, at the house of a Brother Fisher, Sister Fisher said 
to us, “You two will be sent out to the islands next year.” 
I answered, “Why do you say that?” “Because,” said she, 
“I know it.” And in a testimony meeting in her house. 
Brother Fisher spoke in tongues and prophecy also, in regard 
to our mission in the islands. However much these things 
caused me to think about it, I was never sure that I was 
willing to go, but kept in trembling awe of it. It was in 
that frame of mind we went East, Mr. Burton to attend con¬ 
ference in Kirtland, and I to visit with my mother and sister 
at Independence, agreeing that neither of us would say any¬ 
thing to encourage the move, believing that if the Lord 
wanted us to go he would make it known; and for myself, 
nothing else would make me feel willing to go except the 
positive assurance that it was his will. 

Near the close of conference, when the missionaries had 
been assigned their respective fields of labor, Mr. Burton 
wrote me that his appointment was to California, and that 
nothing had been said regarding the South Sea Islands Mis¬ 
sion. While reading the letter I became more sure than ever 
before that we would go to the islands in the near future, 
but felt quite pleased to remain in California one more year. 

In a day or so after receiving this letter, I was in Inde¬ 
pendence, spending a pleasant hour with Brother T. W. 
Smith’s widow, and spoke of our return to California. She 
looked up in surprise, saying she had expected to hear that 
we were sent to the islands, and added, “I know you are going, 
and had felt confident that it would have been this year, and 
do not feel like giving it up yet.” When in a few days a 
second letter came, stating that his appointment had been 
reconsidered, and that we were to go to the islands, the spirit 
of peace and tranquility that accompanied the reading of it, 
and remained with me, bore witness, that it was sanctioned 
by the Head of the church triumphant. But it does not fol¬ 
low that all will be smooth sailing or “flowery beds of ease.” 

Our few months stay in California was very enjoyable. 
The Saints seemed to vie with each other in making our 
good-by visits as enjoyable as could be, so also our children, 
as a pleasing picture to look back upon when the great ocean 
rolled between us. The social gatherings and pleasant inci¬ 
dents of the few days previous to our leaving San Francisco, 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


365 


and that of the morning of our departure, were written of 
to the Herald by Brother Luff, and portrayed as vividly as 
words could convey. But words could not express the tri¬ 
umph of peace within, the perfect willingness to cheerfully 
go, if need be, to the ends of the earth in the Master’s cause. - 

But notwithstanding the willingness to 'go there was a 
tinge of sadness in the thought of leaving our children for 
such a mission, but nothing like that of going to Australia, for 
now they all had homes, and interests of their own. We 
took passage on the mail packet, barkentine City of Papeete, 
and sailed on the morning of November 3, 1896. We had a 
pleasant passage, called at the Marquesas Islands, and ar¬ 
rived in Papeete, December 7, to the great joy of the natives. 
Brother and Sister Devore, also Brother Gilbert, had pre¬ 
viously returned to America. Brother and Sister Case were 
still in the mission, but to our disappointment they were not 
in Papeete but had gone with most of the native Saints to 
Hikueru to the diving, and left word for us to follow as 
soon as we could. Therefore we did not settle ourselves in 
Papeete, but took passage on the first vessel that left for 
that island, and went where the people were. There were 
about five hundred natives at that island diving for pearl 
shells, two hundred of which were of our church from the 
various islands. All came en masse to the beach to meet us 
as the boat pulled in to the landing, and all wanted to shake 
hands, at least all of our people, so there we stood against 
a wall of people. Brother Hubert Case saw that we were 
making little progress towards getting from the beach, and 
came to the rescue, scattering them away. At first, I thought 
they all looked alike, but after a better acquaintance, I saw 
that they had their individual features, and expressions, just 
the same as white folks, and their individuality, too. 

That entrance upon the mission was very pleasant with 
such pleasant companions and helpers as Brother and Sister 
Case, and their sweet little baby girl for a pet. It was in¬ 
teresting to see the little fleet of boats start off across the lake 
each morning to the diving place and back in the evening. 
Getting acquainted with the customs of the people and try¬ 
ing to learn their language, made it a busy time for all. 
From thence we four went to Kaukura in the latter part of 
March to be there for the April conference, and conventions. 
After conference, husband and I went to Papeete, where 


366 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


we spent most of the time of the first mission, on account 
of husband’s editorial work. Yet we took short trips to other 
islands occasionally and spent two months in Anaa. 

In the following autumn, just prior to the return of Brother 
and Sister Case to America, we four being in Papeete, pro¬ 
posed to lay aside the duties and cares of missionary work 
for one day and take a drive to Point Venus. This point is 
ten miles from Papeete, towards the eaS'tern end of the is¬ 
land, and projects much farther out from the mainland than 
any other around the island, though the point of land is 
very low, only a few feet above high water mark. This point 
is made famous by several incidents that have gone down 
in history. First, it was here that the great discoverer of 
the South Sea Islands, Captain Cook, anchored his vessel, 
the Endeavour, in the harbor of Matavai, a harbor near to the 
point, in the year 1769, and remained on this point of land 
three months, April, May and June, for the purpose of ob¬ 
serving the transit of Venus across the sun’s disk. Thence 
the name “Point Venus.” Again it was on this very point 
that the first English missionary landed in March, 1797, a 
young man by the name of Mr. Henry (the father of Mr. 
Isaac Henry who translated the Doctrine and Covenants into 
the Tahitian language under the direction of Elder Joseph 
Burton, missionary in charge at that time), and it was on 
this point that the first coconut trees were planted on Tahi¬ 
tian soil, one of which remained till after we left the islands, 
and later, a very tall lighthouse was erected on this point 
that casts its brilliant light far out over the waters to guide 
the mariners to the port; hence we wished to pay this 
famous place a visit, and see the sights. Captain Cook’s 
Monument included. So we hired a livery outfit (and in 
Tahiti when a two-horse carriage is hired, a driver is al¬ 
ways included). The drive through the broad, shady avenue 
over level ground through the suburbs of Papeete was very 
enjoyable, and when going over the steep hills or around 
the bluffs, the view was grand. At the Point, we ascended 
the long, winding stairs to the top of the lighthouse and 
isaw the great revolving lamp, then stepped out on the 
balcony and looked far over both land and sea. From that 
elevated height of two hundred feet we had a view of that one 
remaining coconut tree that was planted one hundred years 
ago (being 1897 when we saw it), and like King Saul, it 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


367 


stood head and shoulders above all others, that is, it was 
that much taller in proportion. On coming down from one 
aerial flight we were conducted to what is known as, “Captain 
Cook’s Monument.” ^ It is small, evenly hewn pieces of coral 
rock, perhaps two feet wide, and less than a foot deep. It 
may have been four or flve feet above ground when set; but 
being not very far back of the present high water mark, the 
washup of coral sand that takes place at every bad storm, 
has partly buried it in the coarse sand that surrounds it. 
On the face of this coral slab, near the top, and facing the 
ocean, is a small, smooth, copper plate embedded in the rock. 
If there was ever an inscription upon it, a hundred and 
twenty years, with its beating rains, and whirling sands 
have completely erased them. The natives say this monu¬ 
ment was erected by Captain Cook while he tarried on the 
island watching the transit of Venus across the sun’s disk. 

Having seen the sights, and chatted with the natives, we 
returned to the missionary house. 


’Some years since we saw this monument there was a card 
issued from F. Holmes’s picture establishment with a round 
monument with a globular piece on the top, set on a heavy 
marble block some three feet square and about half that 
height, inclosed in a pretty iron fence, called Captain Cook’s 
Monument. But that is of more modern flnish, and was not 
in existence when we visited the real monument. 


CHAPTER 19 


O UR MISSION to the islands was in three divisions of 
time; being in California from one to two years be¬ 
tween those missions. Our first going was on the mail 
packet barkentine City of Papeete. Arrived in Papeete, De¬ 
cember 7, 1896, stayed three years and nine months, and re¬ 
turned home in May, 1901, on account of Elder Burton’s 
health failing, but through the prayers of the Saints he was 
healed of terrible suffering. At the conference of 1901, a 
petition was received from the native brethren to return 
him to the island mission again. In September of that same 
year we returned to the islands again, and labored in the 
mission till May 6, 1905, but returned again in one year 
according to the pleadings of the people—as well as the 
voice of the church just after the islands had been swept by 
the hurricane and tidal wave in 1906, and remained two 
years. We were not expected to make even that long a stay, 
but the work required it. 

I do not propose to trace the events as they occurred dur¬ 
ing those years in the mission, but only to give an item here 
and there, as testimony in evidence of the restoration of the 
primitive gospel with its powers and blessings, and also that 
there is no foreign land to the All-Father, that he is just as 
near to his children in one place as in another, and that he 
does hear and answer prayer. 

Every missionary sister had one main branch of work be¬ 
sides the ordinary, and mine was' with the sick and afflicted, 
and only occasionally was one sick any length of time, yet 
the calls were continuous. 

During those years, I realized the fulfillment of what was 
said in prayer and prophecy by Elder Daniel S. Mills at the 
reunion at Tulare in regard to a work that was to be of 
“great worth to the dark-skinned sisters of other nations.” 
This was spoken two or three years before we had any 
thought of going to the islands, and he said, “Many shall be 
made to rejoice at thy hands.” 

Yet, let it not be thought that the case of those native 
women and children in their sickness was an easy task. 
Many times it would be like a great weight upon me; I felt 
the responsibility of the lives that in one sense were com¬ 
mitted to my care,—for it was not optional on my part. 









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BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


369 


Some wondered that I did not take some of the contagious 
diseases—like typhoid fever and native measles. But the 
loving Father had given me his word that I should not be 
harmed. 

At one time while we were in church where the leper 
woman who was the leading singer sat near me where her 
breath came against my face in a way that made a prickly, 
disagreeable sensation pass all over me, I became almost 
terrified lest I should be taking the dreadful disease. It was 
time in the disease that she should have been sent into se¬ 
clusion, but she was such a good woman, a leader in good 
work also, that none wished to notify the officers of the town 
to come and get her. While the singing was going on, I in 
fancy lived out my life as a leper in the islands, a most 
dreadful experience even in fancy. At the close of the sing¬ 
ing my husband who stood by my side said, ‘T do not know 
what this means, but while they were singing the Spirit said 
to me, ‘Say this to her, that though she pass through the 
shadow of death, it shall not harm her.’ ” 

I answered, ‘T know what it means.” And after we came 
to our home and sat down I gave vent to the great joy 
within in praise and thanksgiving to the Lord Jesus Christ, 
and to the Father of all mercies for thus condescending to 
speak to us, and relieve me of that dreadful fear. 

When our island conference of the second year drew near 
(it was held in Takaroa), I anticipated much fatigue and 
privation and very little to compensate. I had made very 
little progress in the language on account of not being able 
to hear their accent, and at the conventions is where I missed 
it the most. Sister Case was with me the first conference 
but I should be alone this time, that is, no white sister or 
any with whom I could converse, or ask help in the work that 
I would have to do. 

As I sat in the missionary house in Papeete thinking over 
those perplexities I felt deeply troubled lest I could not per¬ 
form my part, when the comforting words, “The Lord will 
appear for you when it is needful,” were spoken to me; and 
indeed he did, in many ways. The first Sunday was sacra¬ 
ment day, and by the blessing of God I was permitted to 
exercise the gift of tongues in greater power than usual. 
Oh, how rich! how deep! how grand it was! Many confessed 
to have felt their hearts stirred as they never had before. 


370 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


Among the first to follow in testimony was Teuira, known 
to some of my readers. He spoke of feeling a power of the 
Spirit that he never had before, that gave him the strong 
desire to lead a better life, to see to it that his standing 
before God was what it should be. This man seemed not to 
have forgotten his resolve in the years that have followed. 
True, he was among those who partook of the wave of 
spiritualism that swept over the islands. It was not because 
he had become careless in religion, but because he thought it 
was greater light. But God has restored him to the true fold 
again. 

In regard to speaking in tongues I may testify to an ex¬ 
perience that was very profitable to the natives. It took 
place in the early part of our mission. We were filled with 
the spirit of the work, the writer had borne testimony in an 
unknown tongue several times, the natives were always 
greatly pleased, and enjoyed the meetings to a greater de¬ 
gree, yet they reasoned with Elder Burton in this way, ‘T 
do not doubt the power, or the spirit by which the tongue is 
spoken, but why, if the Lord gives her power to speak in 
another language that she does not know, can she not speak 
in our language?” My husband’s answer to them was: ‘T 
do not know other than her gift is to speak in an unknown 
tongue, or language, and although she does not know your 
language well enough to bear testimony, she knows words, 
and a few sentences, and when you folks talk, she knows that 
you are speaking in the Tahitian language, so it would not 
be speaking in an unknown tongue. 

Not very long after this conversation it was the writer’s 
privilege to speak, in tongues again. There was a native 
brother in the meeting from an island a long way south of 
Tahiti, and whose language was not understood by the Ta¬ 
hitians; he affirmed that I spoke in the language of his 
island. Alfred Sanford, the brother who had talked with 
Joseph as above mentioned, said he knew it was a Polynesian 
language, but he could not understand it. This was one 
of God’s gifts to the natives, though through another, con¬ 
firming their faith in the gift of tongues, as one of the gifts 
of the gospel in these last days, and it pleased them that the 
Lord would give it in one of their languages, especially Taeaa, 
the man who affirmed that it was his language, "for,” said 
he, "I know she does not know one word of our language.” 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


371 


It was some timo after the above took place, that I could 
talk in broken Tahitian (or perhaps it was only pidgin Eng¬ 
lish), however, most of them could understand but only in 
very ordinary talk, and Joseph interpreted ‘for me in meet¬ 
ings. This evening that I refer to, he was sick and did not 
go to prayer meeting. I did, and wanted to speak,' so thought 
I would try to say a little in their language perhaps plain 
enough for them to understand what I wanted to say, and 
made the effort, but found it no effort at all. I said what I 
wanted to smoothly, and knew what I said. The native 
Saints were greatly pleased. Metuaore, our native bishop, 
went directly to the missionary house to tell Joseph. He af¬ 
firmed that it was the correct Tahitian and added, ‘H knew 
she did not speak by her own knowledge, for she could not 
speak that way.” 

To me it was a new operation of the one Spirit. One speak¬ 
ing in an unknown tongue can not say what he wants to, nor 
does he know what he says, i. e., not the words. But this 
instance was speaking by the Spirit and yet with the under¬ 
standing. No interpreter was needed, yet all were edified 
and strengthened. We felt pleased indeed that the Lord was 
so using us as instruments in his hands to instruct that rem¬ 
nant of the house of Israel. Bear with me, as Paul says, if 
I seem to boast. 

Again while contemplating with a degree of sadness my 
portion of the work of the conference following the one 
above named, I was spoken to in the same manner and told 
that I should have my portion. That to me was a most happy 
conference. I felt very happy all the time, nothing had 
power to perplex or annoy me, notwithstanding we were 
located in such a small room that there was scarcely any 
space on the floor that was not occupied by boxes and native 
baskets. There was no general feast, so I had to do our own 
cooking, and the heat was sweltering since we were on the 
side of the house where there was no breeze. The rats were 
savage and made great holes in our clothes at night ^-v^ile 
we slept. But it all passed off like a play day. I was able 
to audit the sisters’ books without any trouble, and under¬ 
stood their talk so well that I thought I had learned the lan¬ 
guage, and even said, “I will not have any more trouble now 
with this language,” but found when I got back to Papeete 
that it was only a gift for the occasion. 


CHAPTER 20 


I T WAS NEAR the close of our second mission to the 
islands that I had the most brilliant experience of my 
spiritual life. I have hesitated to reproduce or reiterate this 
experience here, for it seemed too sacred, yet is not more 
sacred than the experience on the day of Pentecost, and it 
will be an additional testimony to the power of God manifest 
through the gospel in these last days. 

We were in Papeete. I had been feeling unusually happy 
that week, not a self-centered happiness; oh, no; as much 
brighter than that as the noonday sun is to the twilight— 
happy in the love of God, in my work of attending to the 
sick and afflicted natives. The very atmosphere seemed un¬ 
usually bright and buoyant. At our prayer meeting I tried 
to tell the natives in their language of how happy I was, and 
of how the love of God filled my heart, but the words came 
too fast for my utterance, not being able to speak their 
language only to a very limited degree, when all unexpectedly 
the difflcult work of mentally translating the English into 
Tahitian passed away and I found myself speaking in a 
smooth, beautiful language, one that was not often given me 
to use, yet one in which I felt calm and perfectly at home. 
I was standing a few steps nearer the upper end of the 
house than where the natives were seated, and as those beau¬ 
tiful words fell from the speaker's lips, there appeared to my 
view a small, soft, white cloud in the upper part of the 
unceiled house, and spread until it had formed a ceiling over 
the seated portion of the church, and gradually settled until 
it touched the heads of the natives, transforming them from 
their usual leaning posture to perfect uprightness, and filled 
them with the Spirit, as the whole house was filled and I 
was assured that nothing could withstand that transforming 
power, all must be brought in harmony with it, that is, there 
could nqt^be any feeling of ill will, or opposition, all were 
alike made partakers of the divine Spirit. It was tasting 
of the powers of the world to come. As for myself, I can 
testify to the reality of the saying that a live coal was taken 
from the altar and laid on my heart, whose burning quickly 
created a pleasant flame that ascended upward—though in¬ 
wardly even to the side of my face. 

As I sat down. Elder Burton arose and gave the interpre- 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


373 


tation. It was a psalm of praise to God. Then he plead 
with the natives to put away their evil customs and keep the 
law of God and he would bless them. (These words are 
simply the summing up of what was said.) 

As Elder Burton sat down, one after another quickly arose 
and gave utterance to the Spirit that filled their hearts. 
Each was so eager for the floor that they arose one after 
another, and remained standing, waiting their turn to speak. 
Truly that meeting was a heavenly place in Christ Jesus. 

I am aware that I have used an expression in giving this 
testimony, that will not be understood by those who have 
not experienced some degree at least of that burning that the 
Scriptures has likened unto a “live coal taken from the 
altar,but let me say to those who do not understand, do 
not affirm that there is no such thing; or that the expression 
in the Scriptures is altogether figurative. In all probability 
the ancients knew of its reality, as I, and many others have 
been made to realize. It is one of the powers of the Spirit 
of God made manifest through the gospel in these last days. 
John, on the banks of Jordan, said there would come one 
after him who would baptize with the Holy Ghost, and with 
fire. With m-e, that smartless burning did not pass away 
immediately. It gradually grew less, not until three days 
did it all depart. 

Upon other occasions I have experienced this same burning, 
but not to so great an extent. 

I might relate many more instances of divine favor during 
our nine and a half years of missionary life in the islands, 
but will refrain, nor is it my intention in making this bio¬ 
graphical sketch, to give any outline of the work done in the 
islands, by husband or self. I had my part, was superintend¬ 
ent of the Sunday school association of the South Sea Islands 
District, and of the Religio work, made all the Book of 
of Mormon lessons while I was there, and the children’s 
Sunday school lessons, helped print, and all that, but with my 
best efforts could not half do justice to those societies. I 
never ceased trying, though often felt like one tied up in a 
sack and was made to run in a race with others who were 
free; and would really cry sometimes, because I was ham¬ 
pered by deafness, and could not' cope with my missionary 
sisters in teaching and explaining. But the Lord gave me 
my portion in other ways as has been written, and it is in- 


374 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


teresting now in looking back to see how he lent his help in 
our difficulties, even in bearing testimony. Because it was 
difficult for me to speak to any extent in the Tahitian lan¬ 
guage, I was permitted to speak more frequently through the 
gift of tongues, and my husband could, through his gift of 
interpretation, interpret the unknown tongue in the Tahitian, 
better than he could translate my English into Tahitian by 
his own knowledge. Yet it is a very easy language to learn 
to read, even when one does not know when it applies to 
past, present or future, and that was the way with me. 
When Mr. Burton was examining the translation of the Doc¬ 
trine and Covenants and proof reading before sending it to 
the printer I spent days in proof reading the Tahitian while 
he followed along in the English. Metuaore was very much 
afraid I was not reading rightly, and came in to hear for 
himself, but smilingly said, “maitairoa,” (very good). 

I will give one more testimony because of its worth to all 
who read it, then turn to some of our experiences on the 
sea—^the islander’s highway. The instance I am about to 
relate took place shortly before we left the islands the last 
time. 

To be understood, it is necessary to sketch the circum¬ 
stances that led up to receiving the words of the Spirit, and 
will say that a year or so previous Elder Burton had re¬ 
ceived word from the First Presidency to the effect that he 
might go to Australia again when he felt that his work was 
done in the islands. The Saints in Australia were urging 
our going. Meantime Mr. Burton’s health had failed ma¬ 
terially. It was the greatest desire in the heart of each of 
us to go to Australia, yet I began to see that he could not 
endure to travel from place to place and carry heavy grips 
to provide against the sudden changes of weather. And 
again we were cumbered with many things that we would 
not need in Australia. They were not things that we wanted 
to throw away, and to send them home by freight would 
cost more than they were worth, so woman like, I was con¬ 
stantly turning the thought in my mind, trying to see my 
way clear. Conference time in America was near, a brother 
had gone from Australia to America to attend conference, 
and wrote Mr. Burton that it was very probable he, Joseph 
and I, would go to Australia and since he was one in authority 
it had all the more effect. But before the letter left San 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


375 


Francisco, conference convened, and the appointment was to 
return to America and both the appointment and the brother’s 
letter came on the same mail boat. I do not know why we 
did not accept the appointment as decisive, unless it was be¬ 
cause Joseph read the appointment first. We were so im¬ 
bued with the thought of going to Australia that when the 
two letters came branching in opposite directions, I, at least 
thought that it might come about yet that we would go, and 
said, “I wish we could get some indications of the Spirit 
which way to prepare for.” At the morning prayer I made 
request of the Lord to that effect. As soon as we arose from 
our knees, the words of the Spirit to me were: “Look not 
for the indications of the Spirit, contrary to the decision of 
the body when the body (the church) is lead by the same 
Spirit. God doth not walk in crooked paths. All the things 
that are in your thoughts were known to the Lord, and the 
church when the appointment was made; it will not be re¬ 
voked.” 

I at once wrote it down, lest I should forget any part 
of it. 

Need I say that the question was settled as to where we 
were to go? And what condescending goodness to thus set 
my mind at rest! 

How strange that we should ever forget that our heavenly 
Father knows our every thought, and all our perplexities, 
and note how in this instance, the words, “The Lord, and the 
church,” were used as meaning one and the same in points 
of decision. It showed to me at least, that when a decision 
is made by those whom God has called to that position, the 
man is but the mouthpiece. The power that is back of the 
chair is what speaks. 

In our family worship, my husband always gave me the 
morning prayer. It was also our custom to kneel together 
in front of the lounge, and after prayer to sit for a few 
moments in pleasant converse before the doors were opened 
to whoever chose to come in, and the day’s work commenced. 
Oh, the sweetness of those morning talks! They ever linger 
as bright spots on memory’s walls. 

One morning my prayer was something of a complaint to 
the Lord in behalf of one who had made much sacrifice in 
the days of his boyhood that his father might be the more 
free to prosecute his missionary work both at home and 


376 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


abroad, and I thought he was being overlooked, was not re¬ 
ceiving according to his deserts. When we had seated our¬ 
selves on the lounge, he slipped his arm about my waist and 
said: “While you were praying, this instruction was given 
to me by the Spirit: ‘All do not receive their just deserts in 
this life. Some occupy positions that they do not merit, 
while others merit positions that they do not occupy. But 
in the millennium it will not be so; all will have their proper 
positions according to their real worth. Therefore be not 
troubled about where one occupies here, this is but a pre¬ 
paratory state; let the aim be to prepare for worthy posi¬ 
tions in the future life.’ ” 

Another oasis in the work and wear of everyday life that 
always presents itself to my mental view when I think of our 
island mission, is the Saturday afternoons. About 2 p. m. 
Mr. Burton would cover his typewriter, fold his papers, shut 
his books and pile them up snugly on a corner of his table 
(he had a table in the end of the room near the bookcase, 
that no other one used but himself) ; when that was made 
tidy, he took his Bible and devoted the rest of the day to 
preparations for the Sunday services. 

There seemed to be something sacred in the way he took 
his Bible, and devoted himself to it. 

Let me show you into the missionary house. You go up 
five steps in front to a broad porch—not screened for the 
flies do not bother—^but a neatly finished railing about it. 
Enter through the glass-topped door into a large, well-lighted 
front room. Then there was a large bedroom, a nice little 
dining room and a little kitchen. 

This was the first missionary house. During our absence 
the first time. Elder Peterson, missionary in charge at the 
time, made some very convenient additions, but when we re¬ 
turned in 1906, after the hurricane and tidal wave of Janu¬ 
ary of the same year, the house was gone, and the beautiful 
new church too, as well as all other buildings on the water 
front. Another missionary house was soon built, but to me, 
it never held the sacred atmosphere that the first one did. 
The lounge was also gone, and there was no recurrence of 
those happy morning talks. We found the mission in a 
troubled condition at that time, and consequently there was 
more of care and anxiety. Yet the new front room fairly 
hummed with work when Brother and Sister Lake were not 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


377 


away. There were two writing desks that Brother Lake 
made from goods boxes, three typewriters, the click of one 
or more was constantly heard, and it was there that the 
mimeograph printing was done. Leisure, there was none, for 
the missionaries, or their wives either. As Brother Lake 
said it was work, work, work. 


CHAPTER 21 


A mong our various experiences while at the islands, was 
that of being lost at sea for three days. This being lost 
at sea has been the experience of quite a number, but never 
before when there was such a crowd to share the fate, and 
then to hear of such cases is one thing but to be one of the 
number is quite another. 

There were seventy-five natives and one white man and his 
wife, besides ourselves who took passage on a very small 
schooner for the island to attend the annual conference at 
Anaa. The little craft was literally packed; every foot of 
the deck, the top of the house, and even the top of the 
galley was occupied. 

When the natives travel on their boats or vessels, they do 
not move about the decks. They take up their position when 
they go on board, and there they stay with whatever they 
have brought on board, till the voyage is over, and their 
children will stay right with them; nor do they fret and cry 
because of such close quarters. 

During the day,—on this voyage—there would be room 
enough made on deck for those who slept in the cabin. Five 
days was the usual time for sailing to Anaa, and usually the 
time for going to conference, which would be the latter part 
of March was sure to be the most stormy season of the 
year, because of the equinoxial gales. All was reversed this 
time, instead of a storm, there was almost a dead calm, and 
the sun poured down unmercifully. On the afternoon of the 
fifth day out, we got to the eastern end of the island of 
Tahiti, then we got the benefit of the cool south breeze that the 
high island had fended off. I shall not attempt to portray 
my sufferings from prickly heat and cramped position. One 
berth was all that was allotted to us (husband and I), and 
this had to serve for sleeping room (I had provided myself 
with a curtain), sitting room, and dining room—oh, yes, 
we had space enough in front of the berth for our provision 
box, and demijohn of water. These berths are right in the 
side of the cabin, no rooms, but each one had a round window, 
quite large, that opened out on the waters, and ours was on 
the south side, so that window was the comfort of the voy¬ 
age, for the south wind is the cool wind when south of the 
equator. 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


379 


In the daytime Joseph and all the others who slept in the 
cabin went on deck except the missionary’s wife. The sun 
was too strong for me, so I passed the day as best I could, 
in first one cramped position and then another until the 
sun went down, then I was helped to the deck where all en¬ 
joyed the delicious cool air till 8 p. m. 

The sixth morning out was delightfully cool, and a nice, 
fair wind. In the early morning we were close to a small, 
round island, the owner of which was on board. He gave the 
captain a cordial invitation to stop and get all the fruit and 
water-coconuts that he wanted, also the passengers to help 
themselves, also offered firewood, which the ship was in need 
of, though the passengers took their own food. There was 
no reef around this island and the captain ran close in and 
anchored. The big boat was put out and made three trips 
to the shore coming off loaded each time, a sack of oranges 
at each load. In view now of what awaited us, this replen¬ 
ishing of food was most fortunate. When we started again 
it was with a fair wind and all in expectation of being in 
Anaa by daylight the next morning. So of course we had 
our go-ashore clothes all in readiness and it would be Sun¬ 
day morning, but when morning came there was no island 
to be seen. When no land was seen at daylight, the captain 
thinking he had run too far north, had headed his ship due 
south and run till noon, but the truth was, he was south of 
the island instead of north of it, and was still going south 
into the open sea. At noon he put his ship on the northern 
tack, thus running twelve hours on each tack. On Tuesday 
there was no change, and the thought of wandering on the 
open sea with such a crowd v/as not pleasant, but no fears 
were expressed lest there should be a panic. Elder Burton 
who was also a sea captain, persuaded the native captain— 
who had no nautical instruments on board by which to get a 
true position to sail due north, showing him by the chart 
that if he continued to sail by tacks, as he had been doing, 
he would go through the broad space between the islands, 
into the open sea north of all the islands without sighting 
any of them. Mr. Burton was pretty sure of the position of 
the vessel. But if he sailed due north he would be sure to 
see some of them, and when the sun was sinking low, and 
the wind was freshening, and the outlook for the night 
gloomy indeed, there was a wild, joyous cry of “land ho.” 


380 BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 

How the sight of that land brightened up things! It was 
Fakarava. The captain run toward it till he was sure of 
his position, then again put his ship about and ran south¬ 
west for Anaa, with the high expectation of seeing it in the 
morning. There were too many people on the house and 
galley to admit of much of a cant of the ship, so sail was 
shortened to make her set more level. Morning came, but 
that phantom island was nowhere in sight. Another dreary 
day wore away, until about six o’clock, then the island was 
sighted and about ten in the evening we were up to the land¬ 
ing and went ashore. What an experience it was! But how 
good to be on terra firma once more, though my cramped 
limbs refused at first to carry my body. Paumotus confer¬ 
ences are grand in their way. But this one at Anaa was the 
climax of any that we had attended. It was at that confer¬ 
ence that the natives all sang together just once, the first 
and only time we ever heard them. The improvised taber¬ 
nacle was large, with deep wings on each side, and heavily 
thatched roof over all. It was between meetings in this 
building that the choir of three hundred assembled. All re¬ 
mained standing. Equal portions were on each side of a 
pathway through which their leader, Tapuni, walked back and 
forth by turns, while beating time with his cane over his 
head. The swell of those three hundred as one voice, was 
something grand. The people not belonging to the church 
who lived in hearing distance came running to the place and 
stood and gazed in wonder, never having heard the like be¬ 
fore. It was at this gathering that the new church at Anaa 
was dedicated, and the governor of the island mustered his 
little band of soldiers, and had them escort first the natives, 
leaving them on either side of the road in front of the new 
church, then came to where we were domiciled, and where 
the leaders in the priesthood had gathered, and escorted us 
with beating drum and flying flag up between this army of 
singers on each side and to the door of the church. The 
governor and his two attendants went into the services and 
afterwards made the conference a present of a wheelbarrow 
load of bread, and fourteen roasted pigs. Let me add that he 
vacated his new cottage of three rooms, and told the Saints 
of the island to fix it up nice for us two to occupy while we 
were there. And he lived in a large, niau house at the cor¬ 
ner of the lot. A most kind act and may God bless him 
for it. 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


381 


It was our purpose on leaving Anaa to take a cruise around 
among the islands. We took passage on Hotu’s little schooner 
not much larger than the Evaneliw. There were fifty on 
board. Hotu and Metuaore had buisness at Fakarava so we 
went there first. The business done they sailed a distance 
inside the lake and just stayed there like a lot of school 
children having a good time, notwithstanding they had very 
little indeed to eat except the coconuts they gathered on 
shore. 

After a four-day stay in Fakarava we went to Apataki, 
thinking to find plenty of food to buy, but there was only 
one sack of flour in the place. After a few days we went to 
Manihi where Hotu lived, and most of those on his vessel. 
The other five boats who were in company with us went to 
their destination. We had a prolonged visit in Manihi, but 
it was not an idle visit. There were two meetings during 
the week, besides the teaching hours and four meetings on 
Sunday, besides the Religio and Sunday school. I stayed 
there while Joseph went on a few days visit to Takaroa and 
Takapoto. Thence we went on to Apataki where we were 
taken in a small boat to Kaukura, Rairoa, Tikehau, and home 
to Papeete in the month of July. 

Fourteen were baptized, in some places Religios and Sun¬ 
day schools reorganized and altogether it was a profitable 
trip. 

I think it must have been just such a people as are found 
in these islands, that Jesus spent his three years of mission¬ 
ary life with. 

Nearly all the manners and customs that characterized the 
people in those days (as gathered from the brief sketch 
left on record), are found among the island people, and the 
diseases also. We can readily understand how a man could 
be let down on his bed, through an opening in the roof of a 
house, the bed being a piece of pandanas matting, a thin 
quilt, and a hard pillow, and how easy it would be for him 
to “take up his bed and walk.” 

It would be just such a people with like curiosity, and who 
have no business pursuits in life, and who preeminently “take 
no thought for the morrow,” who would continuously follow 
Jesus from place to place. Not only to hear his teachings, 
that would be the leading motive with some, but the ma- 


382 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


jority would go with the crowd, even into the desert, having 
no care for what they would eat, or where to sleep. 

And from the slight experience of being thronged, when 
we found ourselves in a crowd of fifteen hundred natives who 
had gathered at Takaroa for conference—all were pressing 
^ about us wanting to shake hands, children and all, it took 
two men to make an opening, and push the people back so 
we could get from the landing to the conference house—we 
can understand how the man “of weary mein,” would steal 
away at times and enjoy an hour or two of quiet in his 
favorite retreat. Mount Olivet, or by the Brook Kedron, or 
on the mountain of Galilee. 

As missionary in charge it was expedient for Elder Bur¬ 
ton to remain in Papeete most of the time because of his 
editorial and printing work, and also because boats and ves¬ 
sels were continuously coming from all parts of the mis¬ 
sion. On many of these the brethren would come to see him 
on church business, and on others would be letters requiring 
an answer by return boat. So in this way he could keep in 
touch with the work in all parts of the mission, yet we 
together visited nineteen islands, some of them several 
times. Perils and privations were lost sight of in the joy of 
ministering the word of life and salvation, often attended 
by the power of God to the joy of the people whom we 
learned to love notwithstanding their peculiar customs. But 
however much one may love that people, the work among 
them is wearing to an elderly person. Mr. Burton was sixty- 
eight years old during his last mission. He spared not him¬ 
self, and when we came home to California in 1908 it was 
to enter no more into missionary work, and in 1909, his work 
being done here, God took him. 

My days are not now so dark, so sad as when first I found 
myself all alone in the dear, cozy home, but I will pass by 
those dark days, for though companionless, I still have dear 
children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, and many 
dear friends—all have cheered me in the hour of trouble. 
God bless them. 

Notwithstanding all the favors, and blessings of the Lord 
to me, I am a very imperfect piece of humanity and realize 
I have made many mistakes in life. I have left many kind 
words and kind acts unsaid and undone, and have done and 


BEATRICE WITHERSPOON 


383 


said many things unkind, but trust forgiveness through the 
mercy of Christ Jesus because of my deep sorrow for such. 

I am thankful for the health and strength still given me, 
and shall endeavor to improve my opportunities for the 
benefit of others, hoping to do some good to some. 

Before concluding, I will pen one more item as a sequel 
to what has been written years ago. While our place in 
Southern California was partly under water, and we were 
living in northern California, the lawsuit between the two 
grants was settled; and the Los Bolsis Company from whom 
we had bought were victorious, so the rest of the “gospel 
swamp” land came into market. The balance of our place 
could be bought for ten dollars per acre and we bought it 
and met the demands in three payments. 

When the water all subsided and the Santa Ana River 
that had submerged it was turned into another channel—or 
its former one—it left the gullies and holes all leveled up, 
and about three feet of sediment all over the place, making 
fine land. Though the surroundings were desolate, it was 
rented, and when we came home in 1908, the party that was 
on the place was determined to buy, so we sold for cash. 
We were delighted in the turn of affairs, for when we needed 
a home to settle down in that place, we had sufficient that 
had laid apparently worthless, to get such a home as we 
wanted, and have a good balance besides. The reader will 
see that we did not trust in vain, nor was the feeling that 
“all would be well” in regard to the place, a mistake. 

We only lived together in our pretty new home in Colton 
a short time, but it furnished every comfort during my hus¬ 
band’s last illness. 

I loved the little home, and remained in it alone for four 
years. But when daughter Addie moved away from Colton, 
I had no further desire to remain, so made a change, and now 
live in Santa Ana. Am nearer to the children, and very 
pleasantly situated. 

' I find much to live for, and much joy in living and hope 
to endure faithful to 


THE END. 


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